Occasions
by BlushLouise
Summary: Jazz teaches Prowl about Christmas, Prowl takes the lesson to the Decepticons. Romance ensues. Then, for Valentine's day, the 'Cons have a chance to pay it back - with interest. The Autobots approve. And with a truce in place, there's a chance for a future. But first they need to get in touch with Cybertron. What has Shockwave and the femmes been up to...?
1. Chapter 1: A time for giving

_A/N: Merry Christmas, wonderful readers! Have the first chapter of your three-part Christmas gift! The next couple of chapters will be coming out before Christmas Eve._

 _This came to me suddenly, and quickly grew out of all expected proportions. It's spawning all manners of plot bunnies. So I hope you like it, readers, because I think I'm stuck for the ride._

 _From me, to you. Happy holidays._

* * *

 **Arc 1: 'Tis the season**

* * *

Chapter 1: A time for giving

* * *

 _(On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

"Jazz, what is this?"

The saboteur grinned, visor flashing at his doorwinged lover. "'S a partridge in a pear tree."

Prowl turned, staring at the other mech. "A what did you say?"

Jazz huffed. "Okay, so technic'ly it's a bird-figure decoration on a tree branch. It's a human Christmas tradition."

A corner of Prowl's mouth quirked. "Really?" He eyed the decoration again with speculation. It was pretty, he supposed, if you liked such things; the small, artificial red-breasted bird stuck to the green-needled branch with a piece of wire and affixed to the rec room wall.

"Yup." Jazz bounced on his pedes. "'S from a song. On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree. Ah dunno why."

"And this is because…" Prowl stretched out his arm, touched the tiny bird carefully.

"It's from me ta ya, Prowler." A black hand gently caresses the edge of one doorwing. "Ya know, from one true love ta another."

"Thank you, Jazz," Prowl said softly, doorwing trembling at the touch. "It's lovely."

* * *

 _(On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

"The bird seems to have multiplied."

"Nah, Prowler, that's the second verse. Those're turtle doves."

Prowl canted his head, looked at the two tiny bright-white ceramic birds hanging from the edge of yesterday's fir branch. (Hound had been kind enough to confirm the type of tree – Prowl had been fairly certain that a pear tree it was not.) "What's the significance of turtle doves?"

Jazz walked up to him, snuck an arm around his waist plates. "The humans see 'em as a symbol of love an' devotion, 'cause they mate for life."

"That's nice," Prowl murmured. "They're very pretty, too. Where did you get them?"

"Carly helped," Jazz said, placing his head on his mate's shoulder. "They're from a store."

Prowl reached around, pulled Jazz closer. "Thank you, love. I do appreciate the symbolism." That small smile quirked his mouth plates again. "True love from my true love."

"Careful, Prowler, mechs might think ya sappy," Jazz grinned.

Prowl just tightened his grip. "That's why you show me these when no one else is here, isn't it. So I can be sappy in peace."

Jazz's mouth presses gently against his shoulder struts. "Ah do love ya when ya're sappy."

"Likewise, love."

* * *

 _(On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

Prowl just looked. The fir branch had gained a brother, the two branches fastened in an angle against each other to make room for the decorations. On the new branch, three fat little balls of feathers sat.

"Three…. Somethings?"

Jazz laughed. "Aw, Prowler, ya're usually more eloquent than that. They're French hens. Or, they're supposed ta be." He shrugged at his mate's raised optic ridges. "Ah dunno. It's in the song. Ah think the humans ate 'em or somethin'." He grinned proudly. "Ah made'em. Glued the tiny feathers on the tiny balls." He held up his servos, tell-tale traces of feathers and glue still evident on the tips of his fingers. "Was a pit of a task, too, since they're so small. Ah got the biggest polystyrene globes Ah could find, didn' help much."

"Jazz, I love you." Prowl smiled at Jazz, more touched than he would have expected, and got a radiant grin back. "Come on, let's get your fingers cleaned."

* * *

 _(On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

There was a button. Prowl was hesitant to push it. You never knew what a button on the Ark was programmed to do. Or who had programmed it. At least it wasn't red.

"C'mon, Prowler, push it," Jazz murmured, leaning his head on Prowl's back.

White fingers stretched out, pressing the button carefully. The sound of bird song filled the air.

"Four callin' birds," Jazz said, pressing tiny kisses against the back of Prowl's shoulder struts. "Ah got the recordin' from Hound."

"It's beautiful," Prowl murmured, leaning into the touch. "Thank you. Are you going to let me do something for you?"

"Ya are doin' something for me," Jazz replied. "Ya let me do this. Ah'm fairly sure it's against regs. Also, it's in public. Anyone can walk in an' see it. An' see you."

"It's art," Prowl replied, pushing the button again. "It should be admired."

"Ah think Sunstreaker'd disagree wi' ya." Jazz's grin was audible in the tone of his voice.

"Let him. It's not his gift."

"No," Jazz murmured, mouthing gently at a doorwing, eliciting a gasp from the other black and white. "It's yours. All Ah have is yours."

Prowl meant to respond to that, but then his doorwings were mouthed again and his vocaliser fritzed out and that was the end of intelligent conversation on his part.

* * *

 _(On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

"Five gold rings."

"Ya got it in one," Jazz grinned, touching the golden chain hung across one of the fir branches. "Five golden rings."

"Do they mean something?" White fingers intertwined with the black ones.

"Eternity, Ah think. An unbreakable vow."

"You're making that up." Prowl nuzzled gently at Jazz's helm.

"Well, yeah," the saboteur grinned. "But that's how Ah mean'em. And since Ah'm the one givin' you the gifts…"

"… then you get to decide," Prowl agreed. "That sounds only fair." He mouthed at one of his lover's sensor horns. "I bow to your expertise."

Jazz gasped. "Prowler…"

* * *

 _(On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

Prowl looked. He looked again. He tilted his head. It didn't help. These, these six swirls of silver, he did not understand.

"It was supposed ta be six geese a layin'," Jazz said, sauntering up to him. "But Ah was so tired of birds. Ya'd think the humans never thought of anythin' else, there're so many birds in this song." He stretched out a hand, tracing the swirl of one of the symbols. "These're G clefs lyin' flat on their backs. Humans use'em to write music. Pretty, ain't they?"

"Very," Prowl agreed. "Almost glyph-like." He traced a version of the symbol on Jazz's back, smirking slightly when the other mech shuddered. When Prowl stepped closer and put his arms around his mate, Jazz turned to him eagerly.

"Love you," Prowl murmured, nuzzling Jazz's cheek plate. "More than you know."

"Ah know," Jazz moaned as clever white fingers stroked the rim of one headlight. "Ah do know."

* * *

 _(Interlude)_

"So what's new today?" Sideswipe detoured over to the wall, where the night's most recent addition shone among the green branches. "Some form of silver doohicky?"

Smokescreen grinned. "They're the new ones, yeah."

The red twin raised an optic ridge. "Makes no sense to me. D'you know what they are, Smokey?"

"They've got something to do with music," Bluestreak put in from his perch on Sunstreaker's lap. The golden twin was leaning his helm up against the gunner's cheek, eyes half-closed. "At least that's what Carly said, though she didn't know what they were called. But they're pretty, aren't they? All swirly and stuff. I like them."

"I'll make you some," Sunstreaker murmured.

Sideswipe grinned at his brother, before sauntering around the table and sitting down next to Smokescreen, leaning against his lover's side. "Take him up on that, Blue. He doesn't offer often."

"Really?" Blue twisted on Sunstreaker's lap and flashed him a smile. "Thanks, Sunny. You're the best."

Sunstreaker nuzzled Bluestreak's neck. "Of course I am. You deserve only the best."

"They're adorable," Sideswipe stage-whispered to Smokescreen, a small smile curving his mouth plates.

"You're adorable," Smokescreen replied, pulling the red twin closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Love you, Sides."

Jazz grinned from his perch behind them. From his vantage point he had a clear view of Sunstreaker whispering sweet nothings into Bluestreak's audials, and Sideswipe and Smokescreen as they stared at each other, having apparently forgotten both where they were and that they were in no way alone.

 _Praxians. If we could gift-wrap a Praxian and send to each Decepticon, maybe the war would be over by now._

He caught the eye of the last Praxian on the Ark as Prowl entered the rec room and made his way over to the energon dispenser.

 _Nah. The 'Cons'll have ta find their own happiness. Ah've got mine._

* * *

 _(On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

This time, he didn't hesitate to push the button. The soft music filled the room, as the small – for an Autobot – screen set in between the branches lit up, white-clad dancers moving elegantly across it.

"Swan lake," Prowl sighed, pulling the saboteur close to him and resting his helm on the other's shoulder.

"One of your favorites," Jazz nodded. "For seven swans a-swimmin'."

They stood silently together, watching and listening as the ballet dancers moved across the stage.

"You know me so well."

"Ah know everythin', Prowler." Jazz grinned suddenly. "And yet ya surprise me."

Mouth plates pressed against sensor horn. "I do?"

"Yeah. Ah didn' expect that ya'd appreciate this quite this much. Ta be honest, Ah thought ya'd think it a bit silly."

"It is a bit silly," Prowl replied softly. "And unexpected. And thought-through. And innocent. And I love it. I love it because it's something you're doing for me. Every night, I find that I'm walking faster to get here, I'm so excited to see what you've come up with this time." He pushed the button again to start the dancers off. "It's perfect."

Jazz twisted the other's arms, pressed a kiss to his mouth plates. "Ah'm glad. Ah'm havin' so much fun plannin' it out." He chuckled. "Didya fall for the temptation yet and look up the song?"

"I won't," Prowl replied, kissing him back. "That would spoil the surprise."

"Ah aim to surprise," Jazz whispered, optics closing.

"I know," Prowl whispered back. "You're my own personal brand of chaos. That's why I love you."

* * *

 _(On the eight day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

"Carly."

"Yep."

"Eight of her."

"Yep."

"…Okay. What's with the look on her face?"

"Bumblebee took that picture o' her after she'd fallen down and broken her leg, an' we had to carry her everywhere." Jazz grinned, tilting his head at the smug-looking blonde youth in the pictures. "Ah remembered 'cause Spike said she was milkin' it for all it was worth."

"I do recall that," Prowl replied, a slight quirk to his mouth plates. "Ratchet said she had been well for several days before she finally admitted she could walk on her own." The tactician's amusement would be difficult if not impossible to spot for anyone who was not Jazz. "So what's the connection?"

"Eight maids a-milkin'."

Prowl's soft noise could almost be called a snort, if the tactician ever did such a thing. "Eight young Carlys milking it. Excellent idiom transferral."

"Ah knew you'd appreciate it," the saboteur grinned.

Prowl smiled one of his tiny smiles again, reaching out to take the other's hand. "I think it's brilliant. Thank you."

* * *

 _(On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

"Oh Jazz, it's beautiful," Prowl whispered.

The nine polished balls of precious Earthen metals spun around each other slowly on tracks of smooth silver, the glowing golden ball in the centre giving out its own soft light.

"Ah'm glad ya think so," Jazz replied in a soft voice. "Ah made it for ya. Wheeljack helped. For nine ladies dancin'."

Mesmerized by the spinning jewels, Prowl didn't immediately respond. But then he turned his head around so fast that he should have twisted at least one neck cable. "You _made_ it?"

"Yeah." Jazz grinned, a bit awkward under the tactician's focus. And even more surprised by the sudden embrace he found himself in.

"Thank you, Jazz," Prowl murmured into the other's audials. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Really? 'Cause as orreries go, it's not that complex or elegant. Ah've seen better," Jazz objected.

"I've seen more fanciful ones, yes," Prowl agreed. "Made my master artificers who'd spent half their younglinghood as apprentices and could use vorns on a single installation. This…" He turned his focus back to the spinning gems. " _You_ made this. That makes it perfect."

"Aw Prowler, now ya're sappy again," Jazz grinned, happiness apparent in his optics.

"I can't help it," the SIC said, nuzzling at the other's faceplates. "You bring out that side of me."

"Well, Ah shoulda done this before, then," Jazz smirked as his mate took his hand and pulled him towards the rec room door.

"I'm glad you're doing it now. Come with me? I need you."

"'Course," Jazz replied, willingly letting himself getting tugged along with a pleased look on his faceplates.

* * *

 _(On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

The row of little cardboard figures were balanced individually on springs. Prowl counted ten of them. Each figure was familiar, some faces well-known, others less so. And some were a bit of an unexpected sight.

"Starscream."

"Well, he's the Air Lord of Vos," Jazz shrugged. "And Ah needed more lords ta get ta ten lords a leapin'. Plus, ya have ta admit, he looks good."

"Megatron?"

"Same thing, minus the lookin' good. Ah tried ta avoid usin' him, but Ah didn' know who else to use." Jazz touched the little bell on cardboard Megatron's head. "At least Ah made 'im festive."

Prowl smiles faintly at that. There was no doubt that the figures were festive – from Optimus with red sparkles, to Sentinel with a tiny santa hat, to Starscream covered in glitter.

"They're funny."

Jazz brightened. "Great! 'Cause Ah wasn' sure ya'd like 'em, since Ah put the 'Cons on there. But if ya think they're funny now…" The saboteur grinned. "Wait 'til Ah do this." A black hand reached out and gave the stick the figures were attached to a tug.

And the figures started bouncing on their springs.

"Ten lords leaping," Prowl chuckled. "Well played, Jazz."

"Ah aim ta please," his mate grinned. He reached out to tug at the stick again, making the bell on cardboard Megatron's head jingle merrily.

* * *

 _(Interlude)_

Prowl had looked long and hard, and found nothing. Jazz had taken the only song that involved giving lots of gifts to one's mate.

Oh, there were plenty of songs about gifts. But many were aimed at sparklings, or involved the human giving themselves to their mate, or wanting someone else, or wanting snow, of all things. There was even one about wanting one's two front teeth, which made no sense at all to Prowl. But he couldn't find anything that fit. And now he was struggling.

The closest he had come, was a song that said that all the singer wanted for Christmas was her mate. But it seemed – flippant, somehow, to Prowl. Besides, he already had Jazz. They were already bonded, they couldn't re-bond. And there was one song that ended with 'I built my dreams around you', and that line was perfect, but the rest of the song was just depressing. So he couldn't use that either.

So it was with a slight sense of desperation that he stood outside Prime's door, pinging for entrance.

Optimus looked up from a datapad as he entered. "Good evening, Prowl. To what do I owe this visit?"

For once not making a fuss out of the fact that his leader was working late again, Prowl made sure the door was shut and sat down on the chair in front of the Prime's desk. "I need some advice."

Prime put down his datapad, giving his SIC his undivided attention.

"You must have noticed," Prowl began, sitting straight on the chair, "the display set up on the rec room wall these last ten days."

"The Christmas song decorations, yes," Optimus nodded. "I wondered if Jazz had something to do with that."

Prowl permitted himself a small smile. "They're a gift for me," he admitted, "from Jazz. One for each of the twelve days. And I… Well, I do love that he's doing this, and I want to do something for him in return. But I don't know what to do." He shrugged minutely, a tiny flick of doorwings. "I've looked at the other Christmas songs. There's nothing similar. There are a lot of songs that have a line that fits, but no songs that fit perfectly."

"I see," Optimus agreed, and Prowl didn't think he was imagining the little glint of humor in the Prime's optics. "So do you feel the need to mimic his actions? Will something else do?"

"I want it to be heartfelt and interesting and considerate and perfect for Jazz," Prowl sighed. "And I'm beginning to realize that Jazz is much better than I at such things."

"Jazz may be more impulsive and prone to intuitive leaps," Prime said. "But you know what he likes, and what pleases him. I'm sure you can come up with something." Optimus placed his palms on the desk. "If this was me, I would write a poem, but that may not be what you are after."

Prowl just stared. "A… poem?"

"Yes," Prime grinned. "Or a list of sorts. I would try writing what would please my mate the most."

The black-and-white frowned. "Surely, Prime, you're not saying that I put his interfacing desires into words and hang them on the rec room wall."

Prime chuckled, shaking his head. "No, that is understanding it a bit more literal than I intended it. Although I dare say that there are some that would find it amusing. No. I merely meant that you are the one among us who knows Jazz best, so you will know what makes him happy." He stretched out a hand and put it on Prowl's arm.

There was not much to say to that. He had asked for advice, and gotten it, and the fact that he didn't understand what to do with it was mostly his own problem. He stood up to leave. "Thank you. There is one more thing."

Prime arched an optic ridge at him.

"Jazz had help, setting up these gifts. And I want to do something in return to all those who helped him. So I'm asking permission to arrange a Christmas party for Christmas Eve."

That had Prime surprised. In all their vorns of working together, Prowl had never before asked permission to hold a party. That kind of planning was usually left to his mate.

"Of course," the Autobot leader replied. "However you see fit."

Prowl nodded. "Thank you, Prime." Then he left.

* * *

 _(On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

The sketch was small, hardly bigger than his two servos put together, but it was exquisite. The colors seemed to have a muted glow, and the details were sharp, pulling him in.

"Jazz?" Prowl asked quietly.

"This one's a bit of a stretch," the saboteur grins. "Ah had t' find somethin' for eleven pipers pipin', and Ah didn' really want ta have eleven human figures playin' instruments on there. So Ah found this song called 'Pipes of peace', and its music video, and that led ta this." He took hold of Prowls fingers carefully, angling the miniature so they could both see. "It's a moment from the humans' first world war, somethin' called the Christmas peace. Apparently, on both sides of the war, the trenched soldiers jus' decided to stop fightin' since it was Christmas, an' instead they gave each other gifts and sang songs and such." He grinned suddenly. "Ah asked Sunny to put a piper in there though. Ah think that's him, on that rock."

"I thought it looked like Sunstreaker's work," Prowl said quietly. "Jazz, this must have cost you. He doesn't do this kind of work cheaply."

"Nah, it didn', actually," his mate replied, still looking at the miniature. "When Ah told 'im what Ah wanted it for, and the motif Ah wanted, he said that he'd waive the fee this once 'cause of the occasion. But only if he got to show it ta Blue first, before ya got ta see it." Jazz's visor turned towards Prowl. "Ah said that was okay."

"Of course it is," Prowl murmured. "It's the kind of story that Bluestreak loves. The idea that there is something out there that's more important than fighting, that's worth laying down your weapon for, and the idea that the enemy doesn't really want to kill you in the end."

In fact, it gave him an idea. And it was an idea that was almost guaranteed to put Red Alert in the med bay with an aching processor. His tactical battle computer and logic center briefly threw the same conclusion at him – can't be done – but when he changed a few variables… It could work.

Yes, it could work.

* * *

 _A/N: coming up: what does giving Prowl free reins at party arrangements really mean? Are Praxians really conducive to peace? And what could possibly make Rumble's tanks roil? Stay tuned for more!_


	2. Chapter 2: A time for trusting

_A/N: Enter the Decepticons! Bluefeather4299, you were right on the money :)_

 _And the 'Cons are a lot of fun to write! I haven't played with them before, but I'm certainly going to do so again._

 _Enjoy the second chapter!_

* * *

 **Arc 1: 'Tis the season**

* * *

Chapter 2: A time for trusting

* * *

When the call came through on his console, Rumble couldn't quite believe it. Sure, every now and then there were calls from the Ark, but they were always for Megatron from Prime, and never at this time of night.

No one ever called at this time of night.

And _Prowl_ certainly never called. Especially not for _Soundwave_.

Rumble re-booted his optics, just to be sure. It didn't change anything.

*Um. Boss?*

*Rumble?*

*There's a call for ya at command, could ya come take it?*

*Acknowledged.*

Thank Primus Soundwave recharged lightly. Waking Megatron would be a pit of a task, he'd tried doing that before.

When Soundwave arrived at command, Rumble just indicated his console and moved aside expectantly.

As Soundwave took the call, the Autobot SIC's face appeared on the screen.

"Prowl," Soundwave acknowledged.

"Soundwave," the Autobot nodded. "Thank you for taking my call. I know it's late."

Rumble looked from the screen to his master as Soundwave obviously – to the symbiont, anyway – fought the surprise of being thanked by an Autobot for the first time in his existence.

In the end, he just nodded.

"Prowl: desires to talk to Megatron?"

"Only Prime can talk to Megatron directly," the black-and-white replied. "I have a… proposition that I want you to put to him."

Soundwave paused for a moment. "Soundwave: listening."

"I want to offer a truce," Prowl said without preamble. "A twenty-four hour truce. During that time, there will be a… gathering of sorts. And I wish to ask you to attend."

Well, that made no sense at all. Rumble could tell that Soundwave thought the same thing.

"Query: why?"

"What sort of gathering?" Rumble piped in.

If the two commanding officers thought he was rude to butt in, neither made any sign of it. Then again, Prowl was certainly the only one in either faction who could match Soundwave for lack of expression, even without a mask and visor.

"These are the terms," the Autobot continued. "The Decepticons are invited to this gathering provided they come unarmed and vow to not break the truce. The Autobots will adhere to the same terms. In return, the Autobots will see all participants fully fuelled, without restriction. We will also provide entertainment."

"Hang on," Rumble said. "Fuel and entertainment?"

"Yes, that is correct."

A slow grin spread across Rumble's faceplates. "So… it's a party. You're inviting us to a party."

"Yes," Prowl conceded. His face almost had emotion on it for a moment.

Soundwave, though, hesitated. "Query: why?" he repeated. "Inviting Decepticons: not usual. Prowl's actions: illogical."

Rumble grinned at hearing the Autoscum who was more tactical computer than he was mech being called that.

It was true though. The Autobots inviting the 'Cons to a party really was illogical.

Prowl paused, and suddenly a data packet came through. "The humans have something in their history called the 'Christmas peace'," he explained. "When the humans fought the first of their world wars, there was an instance when the fighting just ceased on Christmas Eve. It was a spontaneous thing, not coordinated – the soldiers just stopped fighting, and instead met on the battle field as friends, talking, exchanging presents and such." He frowned slightly. "I want to recreate that. If the humans could do it, we should be able to as well. Christmas Eve is in a week."

Soundwave skimmed through the datapad, then commed Rumble while still watching the screen.

*Query: Christmas?*

*It's a human holiday, boss, from one of their religions. It's all about presents, family, peace on earth and good will to all men and all that slag.*

*Understood.*

"Soundwave: will discuss terms with Lord Megatron," his boss said out loud, looking back at the screen.

"Thank you, Soundwave," Prowl said, and Rumble could barely conceal his own shock at the second thanks within a breem. "I appreciate it. Would you send Laserbeak with your reply?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave nodded. "Laserbeak: will be at the _Ark_ tonight."

"Good. I'll send back the coordinates and the rest of the details then."

Soundwave nodded and moved to disengage the comm. He paused, though, just before actually ending the call.

"Prowl: has personal interest in this. Why?"

The Autobot's gaze moved from the camera to the floor and back. Rumble had never seen him show that much emotion. "You're right. I want to demonstrate to our soldiers that peace is possible. And that we're all still Cybertronians. We're all the same."

Soundwave nodded slowly. "Soundwave: understands. Thank you." Then he ended the call.

Rumble just stared at his boss. It must be a night for firsts – as far as he knew, his boss had never thanked an Autobot for anything before either.

"So are we going to a party?" he grinned, when he thought the silence had lasted long enough.

"Unknown," Soundwave replied. "Soundwave: will try to convince Lord Megatron. Goals: understood. Terms: acceptable."

"So I guess we'll see," Rumble concluded.

Soundwave rested a hand on his cassette's shoulder. "Affirmative."

Rumble grinned as his boss walked back out of command. He was fairly sure what kind of reaction that suggestion would get, but he really hoped Soundwave could talk the big boss into it. This party sounded like _fun_.

* * *

 _(On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)_

Prowl stood enthralled as Jazz walked in. The second in command was listening intently, no part of him moving, optics shuttered and doorwings vibrating gently on his back.

Jazz had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

"Ya like it, Prowler?" He laced his arms together around his mate's waist, leaned a chin against his chest.

"I do… I don't know – how did – Jazz, this is…" Prowl's voice, normally so controlled, was laced with static.

Jazz grinned, pushing himself closer up against the SIC. "Turns out, b'tween me and Blaster, we have everythin'. The chimes of the Gran' Temple in Iacon. The Polyhexian parade drums. The bells that were used to announce the arrival of Prime in Simfur. The Academy gong. The Vosian Summonin' Call." He paused there before continuing. "The Crystal Chimes of Praxus."

Prowl sank slowly into his mate's embrace, his legs giving out on him. Jazz lowered him gently to the ground. "How?" Prowl whispered.

"Well, the verse said 'twelve drummers drummin''. Ah thought that was dumb. So Ah went with twelve chimes chimin' instead, tried ta summon the sounds of home for ya." He nuzzled his mate gently. "Did it work?"

"Oh, Jazz…" Prowl's voice was more static than anything else, and he leaned into his mate, intakes hitching. Through their bond, Jazz could feel every emotion running through the other black-and-white: joy, intense sadness, awe, loss, despair, gratitude, grief.

Yeah. Yeah, it had worked.

They stayed there on the floor until Prowl's emotions quieted. Then they listened to the chimes again, the Praxian wrapped up in his lover's arms.

* * *

The next day, Prowl summoned every mech on the Ark to a meeting. He waited until the last two mechs had filed in and shut the door behind him before walking up to stand in front of them.

"Welcome," he said. "I just have a short announcement. I promise I won't keep you from your duties for long."

"Oh, please do," Sideswipe called. He obviously wasn't looking forward to monitor duty that night.

"As you know, Christmas Eve is approaching," Prowl continued, ignoring the frontliner. "On Christmas Eve, there will be a gathering for invited participants at an external location. I have secured the necessary permissions and fuel. You all are, of course, invited."

Dead silence. Apparently, the Autobots in general were as surprised as Prime had been to hear Prowl, of all mechs, extending invitations.

"So…" Sideswipe grinned slowly. "So it's a party."

Prowl's mouth plates quirked slightly to hear the red twin echo Rumble's words. "Yes, Sideswipe, it is."

The room erupted with cheers, and Prowl found himself the subject of back-patting and hand-shakes both from command staff and others. It was all quite unusual. Jazz was grinning at him – he could feel the saboteur's joy and surprise to the bond.

So, for the part they wouldn't like. He held up his hand to ask for quiet.

"There's more. I have extended the invitation to others, as well as an offer of truce for twenty-four hours." He looked up at the mass of suddenly frowning and uncertain mechs. "The Decepticons have been offered fuel and free passage on the condition that they come unarmed and do not break the truce. I have just received confirmation that many of them will be there as well."

There was a deep silence, and then a heavy clunk. Prowl sighed. "Ratchet, will you see to Red Alert, please?"

The medic shot him a look full of daggers – as well he should, Red's processor glitches were difficult and time-consuming to deal with – before going to the downed Security Director's side.

"Are you out of your processor?" an angry voice called. "You invited the slagging 'Cons?"

"Yes, Cliffjumper, I did," Prowl replied. He had expected this.

"What in the pit for!? You know they will never honor any truce or cease-fire."

"I invited them because I deemed it necessary," Prowl said, raising his voice slightly.

"Necessary for what, exactly? To reduce fuel consumption by having more Autobots killed?" The angry red minibot was standing on a chair now, fists raised in front of him.

"Cliffjumper, that is enough," Prime said, moving to stand next to Prime. "Prowl has my full support in this. We have many of us forgotten that the only thing that separates us from the Decepticons is the side we ended up fighting for. I firmly believe that most of the Decepticons are not evil mechs at spark. This will give us a chance to remind ourselves what we are fighting for, and what we stand to lose. It is no secret that our race stands on the threshold of extinction."

Ironhide moved from where he had been leaning up against the wall, off to the side. "The 'Cons agreed to a truce?"

"Twenty-four hours, starting at 10AM on the twenty-fourth and ending at 10AM on the twenty-fifth," Prowl nodded. "Megatron accepted the terms."

"No weapons?"

"No weapons on either side," Prowl specified. "Both factions will abide by the same terms."

The weapons specialist was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Sounds good ta me. If the 'Cons can abide by that, it increases our chances at workin' out a long-term peace treaty, too."

Cliffjumper sputtered. "But – they – Ironhide?"

"Thank you, Ironhide," Prowl said smoothly. He was glad that his surprise was invisible to most of the mechs there, though a twinge of amusement from Jazz proved that not all of them had missed it. The saboteur was smirking at him. Searching the bond hurriedly, Prowl was grateful to find no trace of any negative emotion. Jazz felt proud, intrigued, excited.

"So, where's this party going to be?" Wheeljack asked. "And do you need any help rigging it?" There was a faint hissing from where the minibots were seated, and Wheeljack snorted, a sharp ex-vent full of derision. "Oh, come on, 'Jumper. Prime, Prowl _and_ Ironhide says it's a good idea. Then it probably is a good idea."

"I'm still working on a suitable location," Prowl replied smoothly. "It will be established by tomorrow at the latest, and you will be informed. Dismissed."

As the Autobots filed out, their leader turned towards his second.

"So is this what came out of our talk?" he asked, the crinkle of a smile around his optics.

"In a way," Prowl replied, a hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you for supporting my decision, Prime. I know I should have checked with you first."

"I have no objections to you doing it this way," Optimus replied, still with those tell-tale crinkles around his optics. "It is something I wish we would have thought of before. I hope every single Decepticon shows up, even if that digs into our energon stores."

"Soundwave confirmed that many will show," Prowl nodded. "But I suppose we will have to wait and see."

"So we will," his leader replied. "So we will." He clasped his second's shoulder briefly before walking away.

Jazz sauntered up instead, falling into step next to Prowl as he left the room. "So, ya recreatin' the Christmas peace, Prowler?"

"That was the inspiration, yes," Prowl admitted, a slight quirk to his mouth plates.

"Ah like it. Though, Ah have to admit Ah'm surprised ya could even consider it without that logic center o' yours actin' up."

"I had to adjust the variables. And accept that there is a lesser chance of success than I would usually be comfortable working with. In the end, though, it's worth it. Maybe we could lay down the groundwork for ending the war." He reached out, took his mate's hand. "We could have a real chance of peace."

"Ah'd like that. Let's hope the 'Cons abide by the terms," the saboteur agreed.

"Yes," Prowl said. "We can but hope they do."

* * *

Prowl stood at Prime's right hand side, staring up into the dark sky, looking for lights signalling incoming visitors. He could hear the jet engines.

Predictably, Megatron was the first to land. He touched down directly in front of them, straightening with a smirk. His most prominent feature was lacking – there was no fusion cannon attached to his right arm.

"Welcome, Megatron," Prime intoned, holding out a cube of vintage high-grade for the Decepticon warlord. "I am glad that you accepted our invitation."

At his gesture, Prowl, Jazz, and Wheeljack walked over to the lead command trine presenting their own cubes. Starscream, lacking his null rays, sneered at the SIC when he came up to him, but as Thundercracker and Skywarp accepted their cubes he did as well.

"It is one of your most idiotic ideas yet, Prime," Megatron smirked. "I had to come see it for myself. And far be it from me to reject a free fueling of all my Decepticons at your expense."

"Nevertheless, it pleases me that you are here," Prime replied, and Prowl could tell there was a smile under that facemask. "Please, come with us."

He turned and walked in among the trees, heading for the little valley they'd decorated for this purpose. The rest of them followed, though Starscream in particular shot nasty glances at any Autobot he passed.

Prowl stood aside, waiting until everyone had passed. As the Decepticons passed him – all unarmed, all hesitant and arrogant at once, all shooting strange looks at the Autobots – Soundwave made his way towards him.

Prowl inclined his head slightly. "Soundwave."

"Prowl." The Decepticon third took up position next to him, eyeing the passing Decepticons. "Invitation: appreciated."

"You are welcome," the black and white replied. "I am glad your leader was agreeable to the idea."

"Megatron: intrigued," Soundwave monotoned. "Trap: expected."

"We have no ill intentions towards you tonight."

"Soundwave: understands," the cassette master nodded, and Prowl got the distinct feeling that the other was smiling. "Thank you."

"Come," Prowl said, a tiny smile of his own on his mouth plates. "Or all the best high grade will be gone."

The navy mech fell into step next to him as they followed Prime and the others through the trees.

"Soundwave: curious," he said after a while. "Mingling: intended?"

"Yes, I hope so, Soundwave," Prowl replied. "It would not be much point to this if no one talks to each other."

The TIC nodded. "Soundwave: will be an example, then," he intoned. "Cassettes: encouraged to talk to everyone." He pressed a button on his upper chest, opening his chest compartment to let all six cassettes out. "Caution: do not get overcharged."

Rumble grinned up at them. "Gotcha, boss. All of the fun, none of the chaos."

Prowl arched an optic ridge at the little cassette. If Soundwave could be an example, so could he. "I thought you and your brother were the very epitome of chaos?"

"Nah, that's your set of twins," Rumble replied with a mocking grin. "Me'n Frenzy are the good guys. You must have not gotten the memo."

"Apparently," Prowl said. "I will take note of that now, then."

"Rumble: desist." Soundwave turned to the cassette. "Behave."

"You got it." Rumble grinned, then took off like a speeding racer, aiming for the table of high-grade that Sideswipe was manning.

"Cassettes: young," Soundwave said. "Eager."

"That is good," Prowl replied. "It's as it should be." He turned to Soundwave, inclining his head. "Enjoy the party, Soundwave."

The cassette master nodded, and followed Rumble.

* * *

Jazz was enjoying himself. He still wasn't quite sure how Prowl had managed to come up with such a crack-brained idea without his processors locking up, but he was grateful. Everything seemed to be going well, too.

He ambled over to where Blaster was controlling the music now streaming from the speakers hung in the trees around the clearing. They'd agreed on the music together, balancing Earth's Christmas music with Cybertronian electronic melodies.

"Jazz, my mech," Blaster grinned. "Wanna give me a break? I need to let the little guys out."

"Sure thing," Jazz replied, moving over to stand where Blaster had been. "Ah saw Soundwave's lil' hellions were roamin' free on the way here."

"I did, too," Blaster said, opening his chest. "C'mon guys, out you get. Have fun, but keep your heads, okay?"

"Okay," Eject chirped, then darted off with his brother. Steeljaw stretched and shook his mane, gave Jazz an arrogant look and then wandered in among the groups of mechs that were coming together, fuelled by high-grade and the twinkling lights hung in the trees.

Jazz grinned at the sight. Sideswipe was serving up energon mixed to specs, much like one would find in a party back on Cybertron before the war, and damned if Jazz knew how he'd managed to pull that together. Still, it looked like everyone appreciated the effort. The invisible wall between Autobot and Decepticon was beginning to come down.

"Hey, man, look," Blaster chuckled, pointing. Jazz turned to see Bluestreak, sitting leaned up against Sunstreaker, with Soundwave's youngest cassette on his bent knee. Ratbat was chirping and moving his wings eagerly, and Bluestreak was grinning and nodding, while Sunny was absorbed in every move his lover made.

"And there," Blaster repeated. He pointed at the other side of the clearing, where Smokescreen was talking easily to Ramjet, the larger mech chuckling and shaking his head.

Now that Jazz looked, he could see it all over the clearing. In Rumble and Ratchet snarking at each other, both grinning, and Fireflight goofing off in front of an indulgent Thundercracker, in Reflector nervously approaching Wheeljack and Perceptor, in Silverbolt laughing at something Skywarp was saying, in First Aid and Swoop calmly paying attention to something Hook was showing them on a datapad.

"Primus, Jazz," Blaster murmured, turning to his friend. "Do you think Prowl just ended the war?"

Jazz laughed, somewhat disbelievingly. "Hard to see the war now, ain't it? Still… Ah think it's a good sign, but it's too soon ta tell. These're just foot soldiers." He turned, scanning the meadow for the key players. "We need ta keep our optics on command."

* * *

Starscream was still nursing his first cube, savouring it slowly. It was an ancient vintage, a pre-war brew from Iacon by the taste of it, and it had been vorns since he'd come across similar quality. It was not for guzzling, as he noticed his trine mates had done.

Moronic fools.

He had retreated to the edge of the clearing, hiding under a tree, sneering at the displays of camaraderie and enjoyment that were taking place in front of him. It was all horribly wrong – the Autobots were enemies, not acquaintances or friends - or dates, Primus forbid. And he could tell by the looks Skywarp was sending Silverbolt just what was going on, yes he could. He hadn't been sparked yesterday.

He growled under his breath, sipping at that excellent vintage again.

"Lord Starscream." The cultured, elegant voice disrupted his disdain at the so-called festivities. Starscream hated it instantly.

Still, it had called him Lord. Not many bothered with his rightful title these days.

He turned slightly, looking at the voice's owner. Looking up, into the bold blue optics of a barefaced Optimus Prime.

"Prime," he nodded, concealing his surprise behind his customary sneer.

"I trust the vintage pleases you?" the Autobot leader said. "It's from my own personal stock."

"And so you give it to the Decepticons," Starscream smirked. "That's typical of you, Prime."

"Yes, well, I thought the occasion merited something special," the Prime replied, turning slightly so he could see the crowd of mingling mechs on the valley floor.

"This isn't an occasion," Starscream sneered. "This is an excuse for Megatron to fuel his troops before he throws them into yet another puerile and ill-planned attack. Congratulations, Prime, that was an excellent plan."

To his surprise, Optimus chuckled. "I have to admit, I did consider that. I still considered it worth the risk."

"Why?" Starscream asked, curious despite himself. There was no good reason to fuel an enemy, was there?

Was there?

"Because of this," Prime said simply, arm sweeping to take in the scene in front of them. "Because I have to believe that we are not so far gone as a species that peace would be impossible. Because I needed to see that we could all work together if needed. Because I needed to know how much it would take to bring us back together." He smirked, a strange expression to see. Though, Starscream thought, any expression was strange to see on that usually covered face. "And, ultimately, because this decision was not up to me. Prowl merely asked me for permission to hold a party. He failed to mention the specifics."

Starscream couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed loudly, freely, shaking his head at the entire affair. "Not so all-powerful, are you, Prime?" he grinned, when he finally got himself back under control.

Primus, but that had felt good. He hadn't laughed like that in ages.

"I never claimed to be," Optimus replied, a pleased smile on his mouth plates. "Tell me, Starscream, do you dance?"

Starscream sobered instantly, eyeing the other with suspicion. What new trickery was this? "Dance?"

"Yes," Optimus confirmed. "I do believe Blaster has in his collection a piece of music I heard long ago, at an ascension ball for one of the Towers lords. And I know, considering your rank, that you probably had to learn all the dance styles from back then. So I ask you again," the Autobot leader said, setting his cube down and stretching out a hand in invitation to Starscream, "do you dance, Starscream?"

* * *

Rumble choked on his energon. The fuel went down the wrong way, leaving him coughing and sputtering as Frenzy pounded his back to get it back up.

"Forgot how ta drink high-grade, didya, runt?" Ironhide grinned from his seat next to them. "Ya have to swallow it, not inhale it."

Rumble shook his head, still coughing. "I - know that – you idiot - look!" He pointed with one energon-covered hand at the center of the clearing. He could hear Frenzy's gasp and Ironhide's grunt of surprise as they spotted what he had.

At the center of the clearing, a couple was dancing. The music had changed to something older than the pit, and Optimus fragging Prime was leading Starscream through intricate maneuvers that looked to have been made for a ballroom floor and not for rough pine needles and rock. Somehow, though, Rumble almost could believe that the rock and organic material was an illusion, and the couple dancing really were moving over a chequered floor beneath a domed ceiling.

Prime had a hand against the air commander's lower back, his other hand holding Starscream's own. Their movements were controlled, but liquid, graceful, neither of them looking away from the other through twirls, lifts and turns.

Starscream's optics were shining.

Rumble had never seen anything more nauseating in his life.

He looked down on his sadly empty cube. "If this is to be the order of the night, I need more high-grade," he pronounced. "You need any, Frenz?"

But Frenzy was staring at the dancing couple, wide-eyed and entranced. Rumble made a noise of disgust, taking care to knock against his twin as he passed.

He needed high-grade. A lot of it. Soundwave's orders be damned.

* * *

Bumblebee vented deeply. He could do this. If Prime was dancing with Starscream, he himself could slagging well manage this. Granted, Prime was bigger and had thicker plating, but Bumblebee was spec ops, for Primus' sake. That had to count for something.

Plus, if this really did go badly, there were certainly enough medics on site to fix him up.

He steeled himself, straightening and pulling his shoulders back, and then headed directly for the tall, grey figure.

"Lord Megatron."

Those red optics turned to him, instantly weighing and dismissing him. And Bumblebee almost lost his nerve. Shooting at Megatron? Sure. Attempting to blow up both him and the ship he flew in on? Sure, no problem.

Walking up to Megatron and offering him a cube of high-grade? Oh pit no.

Still, he was already there, in front of the warlord, with the cube in his hand…

"Lord Megatron, I brought you another cube," Bumblebee squeaked, instantly cursing his errant vocalizer.

"Hmm," the warlord said. "So I see. Why?"

"You see to have emptied yours, sir," Bee stammered. "And this is Sideswipe's special brew, with nickel and zink. You should try it."

"Nickel _and_ zink?" The red optics widened slightly.

Bumblebee nodded eagerly. "Yeah, he says it gives an extra kick. You want to try it?"

The Decepticon leader stared at him for a moment longer, then reached out for the cube. Bumblebee held back a sigh of relief.

"Hnnh," Megatron grunted after downing half the cube. "He's not wrong. That has some power to it."

Bumblebee nodded. And since the Decepticon leader hadn't told him to get lost, he turned and leaned against the next tree over from him.

Megatron looked down at him incredulously. "What are you doing?"

"I'm mingling," Bumblebee replied, trying hard to make sure that his terror wasn't audible in his voice. "That was the point of tonight, after all."

"Hmm. And you thought it a good idea to mingle with me, did you?"

Bumblebee forced his intakes to remain steady, forced his fans to not kick in, even though his terrified frame was beginning to overheat. "Well, yes. You're an honored guest. You shouldn't be sitting here alone at the edge of things."

Megaton stared at him. "You do know I can flatten you with my pede."

Bumblebee made himself stare back. "Yes. Are you going to?"

There was a long silence. Then, surprisingly, Megatron grinned. "I suppose not. Not tonight."

Bumblebee watched in utter astonishment as the warlord sat down with a groan and the puff of tired pistons, and leaned his back against the tree. "So tell me," the warlord said, waving a hand in indication of the scene going on in front of them. "What do you think about tonight's entertainment?"

Bumblebee shrugged, sitting down as well. He didn't think the night could get any more surreal, after all. Might as well run with it.

* * *

 _A/N: So what do you think? Can Praxians make peace? Next chapter will be out sometime next week! And this is turning into a four-parter on me, though I don't know yet if the fourth is a full chapter or just an epilogue. Guess time will tell :)_


	3. Chapter 3: A time for believing

_A/N: Here's the third and almost final chapter. The next one is just a tiny little epilogue. Please review if you like, I'm contemplating making a Valentine's day sequel and it would be helpful to know what you think :)_

* * *

 **Arc 1: 'Tis the season**

* * *

Chapter 3: A time for believing

* * *

The party was coming to an end. This late in the year the sun didn't rise until mid-morning, but the night was more than halfway over, and despite Sideswipe's excellent efforts with the high-grade, the mechs in the clearing were slowing down.

"Well, that's that," Ratchet sighed, raising his cube in a toast.

Soundwave echoed the motion. "Affirmative. Soundwave: did not take own advice. Got heavily overcharged."

Ratchet chuckled. "Nah, you're not so bad, Sounders. I've seen worse." He looked around the clearing. "Pit, I can see worse from here."

"Yes," the masked mech intoned. "Coneheads: can't handle their high-grade." He sipped at his cube. "Sparklings."

Ratchet snorted a laugh. The Decepticon spymaster had a sense of humor. And here they'd wondered if he was actually a drone.

Soundwave put down his cube and turned towards Ratchet. "Query: party considered a success?"

"I don't know what criteria Prowl and Prime are using, but from where I'm sitting?" Ratchet eyed the mechs in the clearing, from the pile of recharging Coneheads, to the Constructicons singing softly along with Mirage on one of the old Towers songs, to Thundercracker sitting calmly sipping his energon with a recharging Fireflight in his lap, stroking his wings gently. "Yeah, I'll say so."

"Good." The navy mech picked up his cube again and emptied it. "War: been going on for too long. Cassettes: never seen peace." He turned his head towards Ratchet again. "Soundwave: also tired of constant fighting. Autobots and Decepticons: same species. Must move past this hatred. Or else we will not survive. Maybe this will help."

"Maybe it will," Ratchet agreed. He was still surprised that Soundwave's mode of speaking had evened out the more high-grade he imbibed, suggesting that it really was a conscious choice. "Maybe it will." He lifted his cube again towards the other mech. "I'll drink to that."

Soundwave raised his empty cube, knocking it against Ratchet's.

* * *

"I want to thank you," Optimus said, smiling slightly.

Starscream leaned back, looking up at the Prime. "What for?"

"For the most pleasant evening I have had in a long time," the Autobot leader replied, looking down at the Seeker leaning up against him.

Starscream sneered at that, looking away.

"No, I mean it," Prime insisted, one hand lifting to stroke the edge of one wing gently. "It is… invigorating… to talk to someone who remembers as I do. I am deeply fond of my friends, but none of them save Ironhide and Ratchet remember those days, and neither of them think of the socializing with joy. I am glad to have been allowed to remember this, to reenact it." The hand moved against the wing edge again. "You are good company, Starscream."

It was hard work keeping an irritated mask when his wings were being teased so delightfully. "I suppose it has been nice," he conceded with ill grace.

Prime chuckled. "Is it so difficult to accept a compliment?"

"Those seldom come without barbs, nowadays," Starscream replied, though slag it all to pit if he knew why he bothered. There was no point to telling Prime any of these things.

Then again, there had been no point in talking to Prime this entire evening, either, reminiscing about Vos and the Academy, the festivals to the glory of Primus that they'd both had to attend, and the feasts that invariably followed them. It was all pointless.

But still he'd done it.

"Yes, I can imagine," Optimus sighed. "This war has taken its toll on all of us, Megatron as well."

There was silence for a long time. Then…

"Is it wrong to not be happy with the way things are, Optimus?" Starscream asked quietly. "Is it wrong to long for something better?"

He blamed it on the high-grade, really. It had to be. There was no way he'd come out and say all these things if not. It really was a most excellent vintage.

"Of course it is not," Prime sighed, hand briefly squeezing Starscream's shoulder. "That is why we fight, after all. For something better."

"Not me," Starscream snorted, the undignified sound marred with disdain. "Not us. That's not the Decepticon way."

"Why do you fight, then, Starscream?" Optimus asked softly.

He didn't know. By Primus, he didn't know anymore. It used to be for something – it used to mean something, once. That time was long past.

Prime interpreted his silence correctly. "Perhaps, my friend, it is time to stake out another route."

Starscream had never entertained that thought before. But here, now, leaning back in Optimus's arms, he could believe it.

Yes, for tonight, he would believe it.

* * *

"I don't want to fight anymore," Skywarp slurred.

"Skywarp, you're overcharged," Silverbolt murmured quietly from his position against the Seeker's side.

"Course I am," the teleporter snorted. "That was the point. And it's irrel – irrely – it doesn't matter. I still don't want to fight anymore."

"But it's your job," the Aerialbot replied.

"Slag that," Skywarp sneered. "I ain't gotten paid in currency worth having in vorns, Megatron pounds my trine leader into slag for every real or imagined slight, and we barely have the energon to survive. We're stuck between the Autobots and Megatron's fusion cannon. No, this ain't a job. There's just no other choice for us." He sighed heavily, warm ex-vent ghosting over Silverbolt's plating. "But I wish there was."

"You'd never be saying this if you were sober," Silverbolt said.

"You're right, I wouldn't. I'm not stupid."

"Contrary to popular belief," Silverbolt joked lightly, eyeing the black and purple flier. He tried sitting up straighter, but instead ended up keeling slightly over into Skywarp's lap.

Apparently, the Decepticon wasn't the only one who was overcharged.

Skywarp laughed, though, hands gently steadying the sliding Autobot. "Hey, I worked hard to get that rep. Better not ruin it. Come on." He tugged the white shoulders gently. "The party's winding down. Megatron's prob'ly gonna call the retreat any minute now." He grinned at his own joke. "C'mon Silverbolt. You can't recharge in my lap, unfortunately."

Silverbolt twisted, looking up at the Seeker's silver faceplate. "Would you want me to? If we could?"

Skywarp's grin faded, turning into a sad smile. Purple fingers ghosted across Silverbolt's cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."

That had to be good enough, Silverbolt decided. No use pining after what he couldn't have.

After all, Skywarp was right. There wasn't that much of a choice involved.

* * *

Thundercracker stroked red and white plating gently. The recharging Aerialbot in his lap was so young. He couldn't get past it.

If this was Cybertron, back before the war, Fireflight would never even have been let near a weapon yet. He would still be sheltered, protected, cared for within the youngling training centers of Vos. Instructors would be teaching him aerial tactics and military history, and they would be working on his focus and concentration, trying to get him to stop flying into things.

He should have been sheltered and protected. Instead, he'd been thrust into a war within the vorn he'd onlined for the first time, expected to carry burdens that mechs many times his age struggled with.

And all Thundercracker could do about it was sit there and stroke the red and white plating. Giving him at least one night where he didn't have to be a soldier, where he could act the youngling he still really was.

Thundercracker looked up at the sound of approaching pedes. Silverbolt came towards them, slowly, swaying a bit. Skywarp followed just behind him, one arm around the younger flier, purple hand resting on white hip.

"Hey," the Aerialbot said, sinking gently down on his knees in front of the dark blue Seeker. "Thanks for taking care of my baby brother."

"It was my pleasure," Thundercracker rumbled softly, hands never stilling over the flier in his lap. "Thanks for taking care of mine."

"I'm not sure who took care of whom, really," Silverbolt replied, smiling softly up at the black and purple mech behind him. Skywarp sat down with a tired grin, pulling the tricolored Autobot into his lap.

Thundercracker smiled slightly at the sight, shaking his head. "Don't let Megatron see you. Or Starscream."

Skywarp grinned brightly. "You're kidding, right? Have you seen what Screamer's been doing with Prime tonight?"

Thundercracker frowned slightly. "I saw them dance…"

"Yeah, that was nothing," Skywarp replied, a wicked smirk on his face. "Look."

Thundercracker turned his head in the direction his brother was indicating. He stared. Then he rebooted his optics. Not that it helped – he could still see them.

Starscream was sitting in Prime's lap, under the trees. The Seeker watched, incredulous, as his trine leader leaned back, looking up at the Autobot leader's face, grinning at something the Prime was saying.

Thundercracker hadn't seen that smile in vorns.

And then…

"Primus," Silverbolt snickered. "Is Optimus…?"

"I think he is," Thundercracker mumbled, not quite able to conceal the surprise on his face. "Well, that takes you off the hook, Warp. Though Megatron is probably going to kill Starscream."

"Nah, he won't," Skywarp grinned evilly, tightening his hold on Silverbolt in the process. "Look over there."

Thundercracker turned again, towards where the red Lambo twin was packing down his energon stand. In the shadows next to them, the towering grey warbuild was barely visible. And next to him, looking tiny in comparison, a small yellow shape.

"Is that… Bumblebee?" Silverbolt asked, astounded.

"Yep," Skywarp said, popping the 'p'. "He's been sitting there all night. Don't know what they're doing, really, but I heard Megs laugh a while back so it can't be all bad." He turned to his brother. "It's going to be the gossip of both bases tomorrow, TC. How come you missed it?"

Thundercracker shrugged, careful not to jostle the figure in his lap. "I guess I was distracted."

Silverbolt gave him an understanding smile. "He is very distracting, isn't he?"

"Very." Black digits ghosted over Fireflight's pale faceplate. "He's so… innocent."

"Yeah." Silverbolt sighed, leaning back against Skywarp's chest. "I hope he never loses that. But the longer this war goes on…"

"I know what you mean." Thundercracker eyed Silverbolt – the way he was relaxing into his trine mate, the way Skywarp's arms rested around the Aerialbot's waist. "Are you all that young?"

"We're all the same age," was the reply. "And we're adults – though barely. Flight just seems younger because of his fascination with everything. He has an almost sparkling-like nature."

"I noticed," Thundercracker murmured, stroking the square helm. He had spent the entire evening noticing. Fireflight was eager, excited, interested in the world around him in a way Thundercracker had never seen before, and though the young Aerialbot had been scared of him at first, he'd still come over to ask about his sonic booms, hanging onto Thundercracker's every word with wide, fascinated optics.

Thundercracker had quickly become completely captivated with his young audience. He hadn't talked to another mech all night.

Much like Skywarp had spent all evening with his optics glued to Silverbolt's form, and Prime hadn't walked away from Starscream.

What in the pit was happening to them? And what the hell did it mean?

His gaze wandered to Megatron again as the grey mech laughed, mock-punching the little minibot next to him. Almost knocking Bumblebee to the ground in the process – his leader was not used to dealing with minibots, and he certainly wasn't used to pulling his punches. Judging by the stack of empty cubes next to him, he was far past the ability to think that he even should.

Thundercracker felt a dread settle in his tanks at the sight, and unconsciously pulled Fireflight closer. What would happen when Megatron woke up tomorrow?

Who would he take it out on this time?

* * *

Bumblebee righted himself with more effort than he'd usually need, thanks to the stack of empty cubes next to him. A small stack, true, compared to Megatron's, but then again, the Decepticon leader was at least twice his size.

"So," he giggled, pushing himself back against the grey plating, "so the squid actually got sucked into his intakes?"

"Yes," Megatron grinned. "It took Hook a whole day to get it all back out. Turns out they're soft little critters, so Wildrider's intakes pretty much pulverized it." He took another sip of his cube, one of the last Sideswipe had prepared with the zinc/nickel mix. "It stank, too. Hook will tell you the smell lingered in the repair bay for at least a week."

"Priceless," Bumblebee snickered. "I have noticed that the _Nemesis_ tends to attract ocean creatures. Must be the light."

Megatron looked down at him, humor in his red optics. "Yes, you're quite the little spy, aren't you?" He took another swig. "I imagine you know my ship better than I do myself."

Bumblebee shrugged. "It's my job. So, yeah. But I think Soundwave's cassettes knows it better than we do."

"Let's hope so," Megatron grinned. "They're on my side, after all. You, little spy, are not." Grey fingers pushed down at Bumblebee's helm carefully, and Bumblebee grinned.

He barely kept back the question of why there had to be sides at all. Overcharged or not, mellowing or not, he doubted Megatron would take kindly to that question. He'd probably get pummeled into the ground.

Megatron stood, looking down at Bumblebee's empty cubes. "Another?"

Bee shook his head regretfully. "Not if I want to get back to the Ark under my own power tonight. Thanks, though."

Megatron just grunted, walking over to Sideswipe and picking up a pair of cubes. Coming back, he handed one to Bumblebee. "Low-grade," he said, lowering himself back to the ground with a sigh. "It'll help diffuse the charge. Your red hellion says he's shutting down the high-grade and making sure everyone has some of this."

"That's clever," Bumblebee replied, taking a swig of the nearly colorless energon. Then he giggled. "I don't want to think of the state most of us will be in tomorrow."

Megatron chuckled quietly. "You're probably right. More than a few of my Decepticons have drunk themselves into a stupor tonight."

Bumblebee nodded. "The Autobots, too. Will you be able to get them home?"

The grey mech nodded. "They usually move if I threaten to shoot them. If Skywarp and Astrotrain are online still, they might take some of them. If not, they'll have to get home on their own power."

"You wouldn't make sure they got home safely?"

Megatron snorted. "That what Prime does? Sounds like his thing. No. If they're dumb enough to get overcharged to the point where they can't walk, they deserve to be left behind and good riddance to them. They usually manage to move, though. They know the punishment that awaits them if they don't." He paused, his eyes roving the clearing, looking for somebody. "Except Starscream. Starscream always manages to slag me off to the point where I'd rather deactivate him." He looked down at Bumblebee. "Don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Me neither," Bumblebee said, and he really didn't. The form of discipline practiced aboard the Nemesis sounded more like tyranny to him than actual leadership. He decided to risk his plating to try to enlighten the Decepticon leader. He would probably be okay, even if he ticked Megatron off - Ratchet was probably still online, and even if he wasn't, First Aid definitely was. The Protectobots never got overcharged to such a degree.

Well, except for Blades. But that was another story altogether.

"Prime encourages moderation, at least in public," he said. "We have some pretty wild parties aboard the Ark, though. Last time, Wheeljack fell asleep in the rec room doorway and everyone just stepped over him to get in and out. Sideswipe pulled him off to berth in the end. We tend to tidy them up when the party ends."

Megatron laughed quietly. "So you're telling me that the little red demon and your trigger-happy weapons specialist will be carted home?"

"Ironhide is no problem," Bumblebee grinned. "He'll wake up when Ratchet prods him. Cliffjumper and the others, well…" He looked at where his fellow minibots were lying, the red devil in question leaning up against Brawn with Windcharger curled up in his lap. "Prime will probably take them back himself. They can fit in his trailer."

"Prime will haul them back himself?" Megatron stared at Bumblebee incredulously. For a brief moment, Bee wondered if he'd given too much away, but he didn't see the danger in Megatron knowing that Prime took care of his overcharged team. It was pretty much a given, considering the nature of the Autobot leader.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's what he does. He cares."

"You're implying that I do not," Megatron says, looking into his cube.

Bumblebee turned towards him, feeling particularly brave. "I don't know you well enough to tell. But I think that if you do care, you have a strange way of showing it."

Megatron grunted. "It's the way they expect."

Bumblebee nodded. "That's as may be. But is it what they expect because it's the way it should be," he asked, eyeing Megatron shrewdly, "or is it what they expect because it's what you trained them to expect from you?"

For a long, long while, Megatron just stared at him. Bumblebee forced himself to remain still. He was fairly certain that if Megatron had had his fusion cannon, he would have been shot a long time ago. From his viewpoint in the _Nemesis_ vents, he'd seen the warlord shoot his subordinates for less. But, the brave feeling still remaining and not chased off yet by the low-grade, he decided to push some more.

"Why do they follow you, sir?"

"Because they want to fight to free Cybertron from oppression," was the answer. It sounded like something Megatron had learned by rote – the default answer to such a question. Bumblebee shook his head.

"That may be why they followed you at first. But not now. Cybertron is dead. Its inhabitants are dead or scattered across the known universe. The Senate is gone, Sentinel is gone, everything's gone. Only Prime's left, and he's mainly fighting because you are. So why do you fight, sir? Why do they follow you?"

The silence this time was even longer, stretching past uncomfortable and well into unbearable. Megatron was simply staring into his cube, swirling its contents around and around.

"Tell you what I think?" Bumblebee asked, slightly hesitant. The warlord finally looked up.

"Why not," he sighed. "I haven't been able to stop you so far."

"I think they follow you because they think they have to," Bumblebee said. "There's no other choice."

"By that logic, there's no other choice for you, either," Megatron pointed out. "You have to follow Prime."

Bumblebee shook his head. "No, we don't. That's the difference. We choose to. Every one of us, every day, chooses to follow him. If we were to leave, head for a Neutral colony or something, he wouldn't stop us. He'd stop anyone who tried to defect to you, yes, but not if we genuinely, truly just wanted to leave." He took a last swallow from his cube, emptying it. "I think you would shoot them if they tried to leave."

"Of course I would," Megatron snorted. "Deserters are cowards. Wait." He turned to Bumblebee again, and this time, the force of his glare was enough make Bumblebee move backwards. "You're saying they follow me because they're scared of me."

Bumblebee hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. And desperate. Because they've got nowhere else to go."

This time, he did get punched. Bumblebee supposed he deserved that.

* * *

Jazz watched as Soundwave moved among the mechs in the clearing, gathering up his cassettes.

"Ravage: return."

The cybercat slunk over, taking care not to step on anyone as he made his way to his master. He leapt, transforming on the fly and slotting himself into his master's chest.

Jazz had seen it many times before. But never so unhurried, so relaxed. Soundwave wasn't ordering Ravage into safety, he was telling the cassette that it was time to go home. And Ravage came, easily, calmly, taking his time.

Laserbeak and Buzzsaw followed, flying in and docking quietly, and Soundwave turned in a slow circle, looking for the other three. Jazz stepped forward. "Frenzy'n Rumble were with Ironhide earlier," he offered. "Over there."

Soundwave turned in the direction he pointed. "Thank you."

Jazz grinned. "No problem. Ah know Blaster's really attached to his little family, Ah bet y'are to yours as well."

"Cassettes: vital to the Decepticon cause," Soundwave replied. Then he turned to Jazz. "Also: parts of my own spark. My bonded family. My loved ones."

Jazz nodded, falling into step next to the navy and white mech. "Figured. That's what Blaster says, too." He looked around for signs of the Decepticon twins. "No matter how much trouble they cause, how mad he gets at'em, he always forgives'em, always welcomes'em back."

Soundwave nodded. "Soundwave: different. Cassettes must behave. Decepticons: dangerous."

"Yeah, Ah guess it's different for your guys. Ya have ta be more wary."

"Soundwave: also not different. Always welcomes cassettes back. Always a safe haven." One dark hand moved, gently touching the glass in front of his cassette deck. "Always loved."

Jazz grinned. There was almost emotion in that strangely-timbred voice.

Soundwave turned, heading towards the edge of the wood where a pile of mechs were heaped up. Jazz spotted at least three cassettes, one recharging Skydive, Hound, half of two Constructicons and what looked like Trailbreaker's legs sticking out beneath it all.

"Rumble: return," Soundwave intoned.

No one moved.

Jazz chuckled. "Can ya force-transform him, Soundwave? 'Cause Ah think this group is all out cold. Hang on, Ah'll comm Blaster, have him pick up his two miscreants."

"Assistance: appreciated," Soundwave grunted, shifting Skydive off the pile to reveal Scavenger's head.

Blaster came walking over, Hot Spot, First Aid and Hook following. First Aid sighed as they reached the pile of recharging mechs, shaking his head. "There will be a lot of sore processors tomorrow."

Jazz nodded with an easy smile. "Still, probably worth it, doncha think? C'mon, Spot," he said, looking at the tall Protectobot, "ya have the strength ta move these mechs. Help us detangle'em, huh?"

"Yes, sir," Hot Spot replied, taking the still offline Skydive from Soundwave and placing him carefully against a tree. Blaster moved in then, picking up Eject and triggering the transformation that let him be slotted into the cassette master's chest. Steeljaw followed, actually onlining enough to do the transformation himself.

Jazz helped Hook pull Scavenger and a slightly twitching Mixmaster from the pile. "C'mon, mechs," the Constructicon medic said gruffly, "online already. You know Megatron'll leave you if you don't get up."

"Here," First Aid said, kneeling down and injecting some sort of fluid directly into the recharging Constructicons' lines. Hook stared at him, and First Aid looked back, a small smirk on what was visible of his face. "That'll help with the hangover, and hopefully get them on their feet long enough to manage the trek." He pulled at Hound's arm, injecting him as well, before moving to Trailbreaker. "It's Ratchet's recipe – he calls it the 'vial of vile'. Because if you have to take it with your energon in the morning, as most do, it turns the whole cube a nasty green color."

Hook stared for a moment longer, then nodded and prodded his team mates with his pede. "Thanks. C'mon, you pests, up."

Soundwave picked up an offline Rumble, stroking down his back to trigger the transformation sequence. "Rumble: told not to get overcharged."

"Ah, don't be too mad at him, boss," Frenzy piped up from behind them. He was walking up alongside a slightly worse-for-wear Rewind, supporting the older cassette with one hand under his elbow. "Rumble's processors stalled when Prime danced with Starscream, and he's been trying to clear out the image since then."

Jazz couldn't blame him. He'd been trying to forget that sight, too. Especially the sickeningly pleased look on Screamer's faceplate.

"Frenzy: return." Soundwave said, and the cassette complied with a tired grin. Rewind stumbled over to Blaster, looking up at him pathetically.

"Yeah, come on, little mech," Blaster said softly, opening his deck. "Come recharge." The cassette docked with a tired sigh.

Soundwave moved away from the now-awakening – thanks for First Aid and the vial of vile – pile of mechs, looking around somewhat anxiously at the stirring mechs across the clearing.

"Ya missin' one, Sounders?" Jazz asked, knowing the answer.

"Ratbat: unaccounted for," Soundwave replied, still scanning the clearing. "Ratbat: tiny. Youngest cassette. Unused to high-grade, never sampled. Easily overlooked if offline."

Jazz understood. "Ya're afraid he'll get trampled."

"Affirmative." The nervous way Soundwave moved belied the calmness of his words. The cassette master was worried.

Jazz turned his comm on, sending out an Autobot-wide broadcast. *Jazz here, mechs. Anyone got eyes on Ratbat? Soundwave's gettin' twitchy.*

*He's here,* Bluestreak replied. *Hang on, I see you. I'll bring him.*

Jazz nodded, reaching out and taking hold of Soundwave's elbow. The Decepticon turned sharply, visor aimed at his own. "Easy, Soundwave," Jazz said softly. "They're bringin' him now."

He let the spy-master go, and Soundwave turned in the direction Jazz indicated. Bluestreak was weaving his way through the unsteady or still recharging mechs in the clearing, a bright smile on his faceplate, his hands cradled close to his chest.

"Hey, Soundwave," he said in greeting as he came up to them. "I'm sorry, Ratbat fell into recharge with us a while back, and I didn't have the heart to wake him, he's so cute when he's sleeping. He didn't get overcharged, just tired, so I've held onto him for a while, I hope that was okay." He lowered his hands, letting Soundwave see the recharging cassette form nestled in his palms. "He's an adorable little guy, really, isn't he? You must be very proud of him."

"Ratbat: priceless," Soundwave said softly, reaching out and picking up his smallest cassette carefully. "Also, young. Soundwave: grateful."

"Yeah, no problem," Bluestreak grinned. "As I said, he's really adorable, and he's been asking us all sorts of questions and talking himself into recharge. Even Sunny liked him, said he's not bad for a sparkling, which is high praise from him, you know."

Soundwave carefully transformed Ratbat and tucked him into his chest next to his brothers. "Ratbat: would be offended. Not a sparkling anymore. Youngling now, by several vorns." His visor flashed, and Jazz just knew the Decepticon was grinning. "Ratbat: wrong. Still sparkling inside, though youngling frame."

"Like Fireflight," Skydive snorted from his position near the trees. "Except, y'know, adult instead of youngling."

"Comparison: accurate," Soundwave nodded. "Thank you, Bluestreak."

Jazz just grinned. Whatever had possessed Prowl to invite the Decepticons to this, he doubted his tactical computer could have foreseen this outcome. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't think it was absolutely amazing.

He squeezed Soundwave's shoulder once, and left to find his mate.

* * *

Prowl watched as Optimus Prime walked to where Sideswipe had just finished dismantling his energon stand and turned to the assembled gathering. Some were swaying unsteadily on their feet, some were still sitting down, and Cliffjumper and the Coneheads were still recharging despite the vial of vile that First Aid had been administrating to everyone. Starscream was staring enraptured at Prime, which was almost enough to make Prowl's processor glitch, and what was worse was that Prime was gazing back just as fondly.

Then again, the reason he'd set this up was to make both sides see each other as friends instead of enemies. He just didn't think it would work quite this well. And it wasn't just those two, either.

"Autobots, Decepticons," Prime began, "Cybertronians. I think it's about time we call this a night, don't you?" A few chuckles greeted that, and Ironhide shook his head wryly. "I want to thank you all for a great evening," Optimus continued. "It's my hope that we've all discovered new sides to ourselves and each other tonight. Maybe we can move forward on a more common ground. Megatron?"

The grey warlord walked forward from the back of the clearing, making his way through the mechs. They moved aside for him quickly, darting out of his way before he came close.

 _Friends in the ranks are all well and good,_ Prowl thought. _But it's him we need to consider._

Megatron stopped when he was still some distance from Optimus, standing opposite him but still outside the crowd. "Prime. Thank you for the high-grade."

Prowl fought his rapidly-crashing logic circuits. There wasn't a smidge of sarcasm in the Decepticon leader's tone.

"It was my pleasure, Megatron, believe me," Prime replied, inclining his head slightly. "Now. There are still a few hours left of the truce, but we both have mechs who will not be able to get home under their own power. Will you grant an additional four hours to allow safe returns for all our mechs?"

Megatron sneered at the offline Coneheads, then nodded. "Granted."

"Thank you," Optimus said, and Prowl could tell he was smiling again. "Then there is nothing left to say. Except, I suppose," and here his eyes twinkled merrily, "happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

"Sirs," Thundercracker said, stepping forward. "Requesting permission to stay behind, making sure everyone gets home safely." Megatron stared at him. Prowl wasn't surprised – that was a distinctly Autobot request. Maybe it had something to do with the still half in recharge Fireflight that the Seeker was cradling.

"And me," Skywarp added, following his trinemate. Unsurprisingly, Hot Spot and First Aid stepped forward as well.

"Of course," Optimus nodded, eyeing the Protectobots. "Megatron?"

"If you must," Megatron grunted. "You will be back before the truce ends. Astrotrain!"

"Lord Megatron?" The hulking dark mech shuffled forward.

Megatron, strangely, hesitated. And then, even more boggling to the mind, he looked at Bumblebee. "Take the Coneheads back to the _Nemesis_. And anyone else who can't make it back themselves."

Now it was Prowl who stared, completely astounded. Based on the wave of gasps and sharp intakes making its way across the clearing, he wasn't the only one to be surprised.

To his knowledge, Megatron had never taken such care of his mechs before. It was always up to the gestalt leaders or trine leaders to get any errant or wounded mechs out of the fray.

Maybe there was such a thing as Christmas miracles. Then again, he wasn't too sure he should be happy about something that made life easier for the Decepticons.

As the gathering began to disperse, he sought out Jazz. His mate was standing near the edge of the clearing, watching everyone.

"Merry Christmas, Jazz," Prowl said softly, letting his arms slide around the saboteur from behind. "Did you enjoy your gift?"

Jazz twisted, that blue visor looking up at him. "Ya mean t' say that this was f'r me, Prowler?"

"Yes. Well, for you and Hound and Sunstreaker and Bluestreak and Wheeljack and the others who helped you make my gifts. And for Prime. Did you enjoy it?"

Jazz's hands came to rest on top of his own, interlacing their fingers. "Ah did," he grinned, leaning his head against Prowl's. "Ah can't believe this. Have ya seen what ya actually did t'night?"

"What do you mean, love?"

"Look," Jazz said. "Look at Starscream and his trine. Look at Soundwave, and the Constructicons. Pit, look at Megatron. Do ya see it now?"

Prowl did. He saw it in the tender way that Thundercracker was cradling the young Aerialbot in his arms, in Skywarp's constant glancing at Silverbolt and the latter's smiling back. In Hook, one hand on First Aid's shoulder as they walked, and Mixmaster, talking to Hound and Trailbreaker and grinning as all three supported each other as they walked away.

Soundwave and Ratchet, side by side, walking towards the path from the clearing together, helms together conspiratorially. Starscream and Prime, standing in front of each other with identical goofy grins on their faces, Prime's hand on the Seeker's waist.

That would have been the most astounding of all, except that behind them, Megatron was kneeling down in front of Bumblebee, putting them on a more level height. The Decepticon warlord, fierce, strong and fear-inspiring, was grinning at the yellow minibot. And Bumblebee was laughing. Laughing hard enough, it seemed, to warrant the one hand holding on to the Decepticon's forearm for support.

"Prowler, Ah think ya jus' ended the war," Jazz said quietly.

"That would be much more than I hoped for," Prowl replied in equally dulcet tones.

"What didya hope for?"

"Hope," Prowl replied simply. "I hoped for hope."

"Well," Jazz said, turning to look at the dissipating crowd again. "That, Ah think ya managed."


	4. Chapter 4: A time for fighting to cease

_A/N: teeny, tiny epilogue for you. The next instalment of this fic will be along some time in the early new year (January/February, I think). Thanks for reading!_

* * *

 **Arc 1: 'Tis the season**

* * *

Epilogue: A time for hating and fighting to cease

* * *

The first hint they got that something had changed was when Skywarp overtook Bumblebee on patrol, and instead of shooting at him merely dipped his wings once and then changed direction. Then, a week or so later, Mirage was discovered while infiltrating the _Nemesis_ – only, instead of being attacked, he was invited back to the Constructicons' cabins for some high-grade. A few weeks after that, Laserbeak could be seen leaving the Ark rec room quietly before first shift, Trailbreaker escorting him to the front exit with a small smile on his face.

It was all enough to make Prowl's tactical computer calculate in new and interesting ways, suddenly seeing a different future than was probable just a few months earlier.

And when the Decepticons finally acted up again, attacking an oil refinery about a month after Christmas, Prowl asked Prime to give the order that none were to fire at the Decepticons unless they fired first.

And, almost miraculously, not a single shot was fired. Instead, Prime had intercepted Megatron and asked him to desist. And Megatron had smirked and ordered a retreat, looking at Bumblebee as he did.

Poor Red Alert landed himself in the med bay again after that, processor glitching. After so many years of seeing Decepticon threats everywhere, them not being a threat for once almost undid him. And for once, Ratchet wasn't upset about it, merely treated Red Alert with his usual care and much less than his usual gruffness.

Of course, that may well have had something to do with the cube of glowing vintage high-grade sitting on the desk in his office. It had appeared there a few days earlier, with a signed note courtesy of the Decepticon spymaster. 'Until next time,' the note said.

A different future indeed.


	5. Miracles, I guess, still happen

_A/N: Welcome to the second story arc! Where the fluff abounds and I'm having way too much fun :)_

 _I changed the title of this fic, since the arcs are all going to be posted in the same story. (All the arcs? Holy Primus, I hear you think, how far is she planning to take this? Well, I don't know yet. It'll go until it's done, arc by arc. I'll take suggestions for future seasons to explore!) The title is taken from Queen's Breakthru, I thought the lyrics made sense for this fic._

 _EDIT: I changed it again, it didn't sit right. Still think the lyrics fit, but the song is too aggressive. I promise I'll leave it alone now!_

 _The chapter titles for the second arc are from Elvis Presley's version of 'Welcome to my world'._

* * *

Arc 2: My funny what now?

* * *

Chapter 1: Miracles, I guess, still happen now and then

* * *

The call from the Nemesis came as a surprise. They were less rare than they used to be, but Prowl remembered too many calls that heralded bad things to be especially pleased when one came through.

Still, the second-in-command felt some of his apprehension ease when he saw who was calling. And that it was for him personally.

"Soundwave," he nodded, accepting the transmission.

"Prowl," the carrier said, his voice more monotone than usual through the tinny speakers. "Time: suitable?"

This late in the evening, command was almost empty. Blaster was manning the comm station, as usual, but his body language made it very clear that he was in no way paying attention to what his superior was saying. He was probably close to offlining from curiosity, but he wasn't listening.

"Yes, this is an acceptable time. Please speak freely."

The visored mech nodded. "Your time: appreciated." Then he hesitated, strangely. Prowl waited with as much patience as he could muster. Soundwave never called, so this was probably important.

"Soundwave: requesting truce," the navy mech said finally. "Autobots: invited to gathering. Reason: celebration of new Decepticon energon production facility. Also: Valentine's day."

Prowl stopped himself from gaping, but just barely. This was familiar, funnily enough, though their roles seemed to have been reversed. "I see. What are the terms?"

"Truce: to last for seventy-two hours," Soundwave replied. "Participants: unarmed. Fuel and transport: to be supplied by the Decepticons."

"Same terms as last time," Prowl nodded. Well, it had worked then. His tactical computer was already running several different scenarios, but unlike last time, a lot of them were coming up with positive results. "And the need for transport?"

"New facility: in remote location," Soundwave replied. "Air transport: necessary."

"I see. When is this gathering to take place?"

"Date: Valentine's day," Soundwave said. It was hard to tell with the visor and mask, but Prowl got the distinct feeling that the Decepticon felt as though he was repeating himself. "Specifically: from 0800 Earth time the day before, to allow for travel time."

"Understood," Prowl said, even though that was very far from the truth. "I will discuss this with Prime, but the terms will probably be acceptable. Will it be possible for me to call back the same time tomorrow to confirm?"

"Affirmative," the Decepticon nodded. Then the connection closed.

Prowl leaned back, considering. He was operating on insufficient data here, and there was really only one mech who could help him.

*Jazz?*

*Prowler?*

*What kind of thing is a Valentine's day?*

* * *

"… an' the date is the fourteenth," Jazz finished, "a week from now."

The Prime leaned back. "Well, that's certainly unexpected. Do you know if this invitation came from Soundwave or from Megatron?"

"He didn't say, but I would guess it came from Megatron," Prowl replied. "Soundwave doesn't operate on his own."

Ratchet snorted. "Oh, it came from Soundwave, all right. Or Starscream, even, whispering in Soundwave's audio. Megatron wouldn't come up with something like this. But you can bet your transformation cogs that he's approved it, or the invitation wouldn't have been made."

Red Alert stared from one to the other of the officers around the table. "You're not seriously thinking of accepting this? It's most certainly a trap! Offering to transport the Autobots to a remote location? Three whole days? Optimus, you can't possibly agree to this!"

"I can assure you that I am considering that aspect, Red Alert." Prime seemed to try to reassure his high-strung security director. "But we must also consider that this is a legitimate invitation. After all, we did it to them."

"Yes, but we're Autobots!" Red Alert argued. "They're Decepticons!"

Optimus only nodded. "Jazz, have you heard any rumors about this new facility of theirs?"

The smaller mech leaned back in his chair, barely resisting putting his pedes on the table. "Nothin' 'bout a new facility. But the Constructicons have been absent for a while. An' the Seekers have changed their patrol patterns to range further from the base."

"Oh, slag! That's it!" Wheeljack said suddenly, his vocal indicators flashing brightly. "Optimus, I think I can shed some light on this." The colors flashing next to his faceplate deepened to a dark orange, and Jazz leaned forward with an excited smirk. An embarrassed Wheeljack was always amusing.

"I spent some time talking to Scrapper and Mixmaster at the Christmas party," the engineer continued. "I… may have mentioned at some point that we get much of our energon from the volcanic converters. They were very interested in the science behind it."

"An' you were flattered, so you told them all about it," Jazz grinned.

Wheeljack didn't reply, but he didn't need to. His vocal indicators did it for him.

"So ya think they've somehow began harvesting energon from volcanic activity themselves," Ironhide said.

"Yes," Wheeljack replied. "Which would be a good thing, right? At least that way they don't attack anybody."

"Unless they accidentally on purpose destroy the planet," Red Alert grumbled.

"It would be a good thing," Optimus agreed, ignoring the Lamborghini. "I don't blame you for telling them, Wheeljack." He paused, steepled his fingers in front of his face. "We will accept the invitation."

"But Optimus –" Red Alert protested.

"Hear me out," the Autobot leader said, holding up a hand to make them quiet. "We will accept the invitation. But – and this is a big but – we will need surety that Megatron has approved this. We also want to scout the site out ourselves before the party. That means Skyfire and Silverbolt at the very least, preferably with one of you along for the ride."

"I will tell Soundwave," Prowl nodded.

"Optimus…" Red Alert whined.

"Easy, my friend," the Prime said, reaching out and laying a hand on the SD's shoulder. "I understand your worry. But I cannot in good conscience say no when they're simply trying to do what we did so successfully."

Jazz didn't say anything. But he had a strong feeling that the Prime was extra willing to approve of something that would let him hang out with an unarmed Starscream again.

* * *

"Acceptable," Soundwave said. "Guides: myself and Rumble. Suggestion: tomorrow?"

"Yes, that will work," Prowl agreed. "Wheeljack and I will accompany you. Meet us here at noon."

The connection cut off.

"Well?" Starscream demanded impatiently, moving away from the wall again. "What did they say?"

"Terms: acceptable," Soundwave replied, turning towards the high-strung Seeker. "Autobots: desire proof of facility's existence."

"Of course," the Seeker sneered. "Of course they do."

"Action: understandable," Soundwave said. "Decepticons: not to be trusted."

"Shut up," Starscream snarled, turning on his heel and walking away. "Let me know when they finally make up their minds."

He barely waited for the inevitable "Affirmative" before stalking off down the hall.

Imbecilic Autobots with their stupid code of honor and their stupid attitude.

Starscream unlocked the door to his trine's quarters, bracing himself for the expected barrage before going inside.

Thundercracker looked up as he walked in. "So what did they say?"

"Nothing," Starscream grumbled. "They want to examine the site first. So Silverbolt and Skyfire are going to –"

"Silverbolt?" Skywarp repeated, grinning. And then he vanished.

"Wait, no –" Starscream began, but the glitch was of course already long gone.

"Don't bother," Thundercracker smirked. "One hint of that flier, and Warp is gone. He's been like that since Christmas."

"The patrol is not until tomorrow – he'll be flying around the Autobot base all night, waiting for that excuse for a Seeker to come out."

"Then comm him," Thundercracker said, shrugging. "Tell him that he's wasting his time."

Starscream eyed his trinemate with disdain. "Now why would I do that? Then he would just come back." Ignoring the look of incredulity on Thundercracker's face, he turned on his heel. "I'll be in my lab."

Thundercracker was just as bad as Skywarp was, he knew. If the Prime had been idiotic enough to send Fireflight, the decidedly most scatterbrained soldier in both armies – and that said something, considering that Starscream worked with Mixmaster, Scavenger and the Coneheads on a daily basis – out on a security scouting run, Thundercracker would have been right out there with Skywarp, no matter if they were needed elsewhere or not. This illicit relation they had going with the thrice-damned Aerialbots were driving them both to distraction.

Starscream was grateful that he himself at least was above such petty affairs. And that he could hide in the lab, away from his moronic, scrap-for-processor trinemates. They never came in there – he had managed to teach them that much.

Or he thought he had. Flitting after Fireflight had obviously rusted Thundercracker's processor, because the dark jet suddenly walked into the lab behind him.

"Okay, what's gotten into you?" he asked, leaning his hip up against a workbench.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Starscream replied loftily. "Get out. This is my space."

"Not until you've told me what's got your thrusters in a knot," Thundercracker said.

Starscream would have snorted, if he made such indignified sounds. "I am fine."

"No, you're not. You're in more of a huff than usual," his overly perceptive wingmate said. "It's this invitation, isn't it? Have you lost faith in the idea? You did approve of it at first."

"I did," Starscream admitted. "I haven't. I don't know." He busied his hands at the bench, shifting and sorting the equipment there. It was make-work, but Thundercracker lacked the scientific inclination to notice.

Usually, he did. But something must have happened, because Thundercracker came up behind him, hugging Starscream around his waist and placing his own hands over his trineleader's to still them. "It does bother you," he said quietly. "Why? Is it because they didn't say yes right away?"

"I… I have important things to do," Starscream said, scrambling to take control of the situation. "Leave me."

"No," Thundercracker replied calmly, his hands moving from Starscream's hands to his wings. "I'm not leaving until we've talked about this. Something's bothering you, Star."

Starscream tried not to relax into the traditional touches, part of the bonding ritual between trine members, but he failed quite spectacularly. Thundercracker had very insistent fingers. "It's nothing," he tried, but he already knew by now that his stubborn wingmate wouldn't let it go.

Thundercracker just hummed noncommittally, and kept on stroking his wings.

After a moment, Starscream folded. The touch on his wings really felt too good. "Fine," he snapped. "Yes, this gathering bothers me."

"It's not the gathering, though, is it," Thundercracker mused, and when exactly did his trinemate become so perceptive? "You were excited about it yesterday. It was nice, actually, to see you prancing around happily again. It's been a while."

Starscream didn't dignify that with an answer. He most decidedly did _not_ prance.

"I think it's their response," Thundercracker said, still caressing Starscream's wings. "You're afraid they'll say no. You're afraid he doesn't want to see you."

"That's complete and utter slag," Starscream protested, indignant. "I am not afraid! I face down Megatron on a regular basis, why would I be afraid now?"

"You don't like Megatron," Thundercracker pointed out.

"Of course I don't," Starscream huffed. "I do not like _anyone_. Primus, I can barely tolerate you and Skywarp!"

Thundercracker chuckled lowly. "I saw the way he looked at you, Star. He wants to see you. He's been looking for you at every skirmish."

"Nonsense," Starscream said. "I would have seen that. And you, my dear Thundercracker, wouldn't have, because you're always chasing that little red Aerialbot aft. That, I have noticed."

Thundercracker, to his eternal discredit, just laughed. "Star, I love you like a brother but sometimes you're as dense as lead. He looks for you. Trust me." A soft stroke down each wing's edge completed the ritual, and the darker mech stood up and left, ignoring Starscream's stutters and closing the door behind him.

It took Starscream a few moments to collect his thoughts, but then he went back to work. He tried hard to dismiss Thundercracker's notion, and by the time he had finished servicing his null rays he had almost managed to do so.

After all, it was completely ridiculous that the Prime would be looking for him. And if he was looking, it was probably to shoot him. He was a valuable officer to the Decepticons, after all. It couldn't be personal.

It just couldn't be.

* * *

Jazz watched, mild excitement making his spark pulse, as Blast Off and Astrotrain landed in front of the Ark. Skyfire was waiting next to them, already transformed and loaded.

"This has to be the first time I'm moderately pleased to see those two slaggers," Ratchet said gruffly. The medic was standing next to Jazz, a portable medikit the size of Bumblebee next to him.

"Excited ta be goin', Ratch?" Jazz asked, smirking at the white mech. "Ah know Ah am. This is goin' ta be fun."

"Yes, of course," Ratchet said sardonically. "Boarding a Decepticon triple-changer, having to travel with those pit-spawned Constructicons, and then spend three days in a volcanic dugout at the bottom of the ocean. Fun."

Jazz grinned. Ratchet was probably not the only one who was apprehensive about this. He could see Hound and Mirage waiting next to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, the twins practically bristling with repressed energy as they waited to escort Ratchet and Wheeljack aboard Astrotrain. Cliffjumper was equally as tense; he was standing with Brawn, Huffer, Bluestreak and Smokescreen, waiting to board Blast Off along with Jazz and Perceptor.

After coming back from the guided tour of the site a few days ago, Prowl and Soundwave had devised a travel plan and group schedule that was meant to assuage any fears anyone had about being transported by a member of the opposite faction. According to Prowl, this should both put the majority of both factions at ease – moderately – and make the trips safer, since, hopefully, neither faction would fire on their own higher ranks. So for this round, Ratchet and Wheeljack got the company of the Constructicons, in the hopes that no one wanted to take out the medics and engineers of both factions. Jazz got the interesting pleasure of traveling with Soundwave and the cassettes, and that was mainly due to a hope that no one wanted to get rid of the enemy bad enough to also take out one of their own greatest assets. Prime himself was already aboard Skyfire along with Megatron, and Ironhide, Trailbreaker, Onslaught and Swindle would be accompanying them. After this trip, the shuttle-formers would come back and pick up whoever was left.

It was either a guaranteed success or a gigantic clusterfrag. Jazz hadn't decided yet.

"Was fun last time we hung out with 'em," he said conversationally as Astrotrain opened his hold. "And no one thought that would work, either." He smirked as the medic began walking away. "Remember th' truce, Ratch. That goes for wrenches, as well."

Ratchet just shot him a glare and followed the twins into the triple-changer.

As Blast Off opened his own hold, Jazz straightened out of his slouch against the Ark doorframe and sauntered over to his companions. He was more than a little surprised when his scientist travel companion suddenly attached himself to him as they boarded the shuttle and stuck to his side as if magnetized there.

"Um. Percy?"

"Oh, I apologize, Jazz," Perceptor squeaked. "It's just – I must admit to being more than a little nervous about this venture. I cannot see how our safety is guaranteed."

"Ya were there at Christmas, weren't ya?" Jazz asked. Now that he thought back, he couldn't remember seeing the microscope-former.

Perceptor looked away, mumbling something about spending most of that party inside Skyfire's alt mode. Which explained why the shuttle-former had been conspicuously absent as well.

"Well, we have an hour-long trek ta work on that," Jazz said, smiling easily and taking a moment to be grateful that Soundwave and his cassettes were the only 'Cons they had to worry about. Strange as it would have seemed once, the ominously silent spymaster had become one of the few 'Cons Jazz thought he might almost trust, if it came to that. Certainly enough to be cordial for an hour of flying.

And in his chest, the navy mech carried one of the few non-threatening 'Cons in existence, perfect for reassuring the nervous Autobot scientist.

Soundwave was waiting inside the shuttle. He gave Jazz a polite nod.

"Soundwave, mah mech," Jazz grinned. "Thanks for the invite."

"Autobot response: appreciated," the Decepticon replied evenly. "Decepticons: reciprocating."

"Yeah, we figured it was somethin' like that," Jazz agreed, trying to get the still-attached Perceptor to strap down in one of Blast Off's seats. "That's why we took th' chance that th' whole thing was on the up an' up."

"…Affirmative." Soundwave hesitated minutely before responding, and Jazz was willing to bet he had checked the slang with one of his cassettes. For a communications officer, he wasn't paying a lot of attention to all the human frequencies abounding around them. But not everyone could be as accepting of Earth culture as himself and Blaster.

Jazz finally managed to get Perceptor strapped in safely, and slid into the seat next to the scientist. He nodded at the still standing Soundwave, indicating his chest. "So can th' little guys come out to play?"

Soundwave froze. "Query: Autobot Jazz desires the cassettes to be present?"

Jazz grinned. For such a monotone mech, Soundwave managed to put quite a lot of surprise and incredulity into the question. "Yeah, 's a truce, right? Let 'em out, let's socialize. Beats spendin' this entire trip starin' at each other with nothin' to say. The little guys may be chaos incarnate, but they're great ice-breakers."

Soundwave just stared. Or at least Jazz assumed he did; it was kind of hard to say with that mask and visor.

After a moment, Soundwave lifted his hand slowly and pressed the button on his shoulder. "Cassettes: Eject."

It wasn't quite chaos, but it was certainly a flurry of activity. Ravage landed gracefully, eyed everyone with equal disdain, and walked with quiet dignity into the deeper parts of Blast Off's hold. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw came out flying, and after a few rounds they both landed on the highest possible vantage points – which weren't very high, considering they were inside the shuttle. Rumble and Frenzy came out cussing and swearing, staring daggers at everyone and doing their best to look threatening, which Jazz could sort of understand considering not a mech there was friendly towards them.

Ratbat flittered around uncertainly before ending up in the lap of Bluestreak, who helpfully enough had sat down on Perceptor's other side.

"Hi Bluestreak!"

Bluestreak grinned. Perceptor stared. Jazz gave Soundwave a wink and got a slow nod in return.

Yeah, this could work.

* * *

 _A/N: most of the shameless fluff will begin in the next chapter. It's going up some time next week :) Let me hear your thoughts!_


	6. Welcome to my world

_A/N: UnknownAlien and maria-ioanna984, thanks for reviewing!_

 _Happy Valentine's day, readers! Now for some more fluff!_

* * *

 **Arc 2: My funny what now?**

* * *

Chapter 2: Welcome to my world, built with you in mind

* * *

The landing pad didn't look like a landing pad. It looked like a cleft in the rock, small and unobtrusive and completely inaccessible to humans. At the end of it was the entrance to the elevator, which was so cleverly concealed that everyone had to approach from a thirty degree angle to spot it and even he couldn't pick it up on his sensors.

Bumblebee was impressed. And glad he wasn't supposed to infiltrate the damn thing.

He crowded into the elevator with First Aid, Groove, Dirge and the Reflector triplets, silently impressed with the sheer size of it. It was bigger than the one on the Nemesis, and better made, running smoothly and silently.

Or maybe it was just that it was new. It was certainly a lot shinier than anything on the Nemesis – or the Ark, for that matter – and lacking the stains of rust and slime that gave the Decepticon main base it's… personality, for want of a better word.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but as the doors opened, he was floored. The outside of the base was impressive, but it was nothing to this. Never in a billion years would he have expected the tiny nondescript pile of volcanic rock in the middle of the Pacific to conceal the space in front of him.

And he had to give silent praise to the Constructicons. Because they could have built a dingy factory. Or a sterile production facility.

They hadn't.

Bumblebee stared. He stared at the shallow, gently steaming, bright turquoise pool in the center of the large cavern. At the thick supporting pillars along the edge of the open space, with the inlaid lighting in whimsical creative patterns that bathed the room in a soft golden light. At the multitude of lit openings into other parts of the cavern, some that looked like they led to deep pools, some with cushy berths and couches, some only accessible to winged mecha or those equipped with Decepticon anti-gravs.

At the bona fide old school energon bar straight across from the elevator, backlit by cubes and cubes of different hues, all giving off an iridescent glow.

Megatron could have made this into a dark, damp cave. But he hadn't.

This was a spa resort.

The thought was so absurd that Bumblebee giggled. But there really was nothing else that fit.

They were the last to arrive, which meant that the place was pleasantly full. That it wasn't packed was an indicator of how big it actually was, as was the fact that Skyfire and Astrotrain were both standing upright without problems.

And talking cordially to each other, which was promising. Maybe it would be a good two and a half days.

Bumblebee angled past the center pool where Blaster's cassettes – minus Steeljaw – were playing to head over to the bar, getting a cube of that pearlescent perfection for himself. Swindle was manning the bar, which was kind of unnerving, but Thrust was drinking from the same kind of cube, so it was probably all right.

Hands full of the nicest-smelling energon he'd had since Christmas, he walked away from the bar to find somewhere to sit. He passed Grapple and Hoist, the former gushing at Scrapper and Long Haul about the quality of their work here, and wasn't all that surprised that those mechs had gravitated towards each other. He also wasn't surprised at seeing Ratchet and Soundwave hovering at the edge of the large space, heads together like they were plotting something. Bumblebee gave them a wide berth, because it was always good to put safety first if at all possible. That put him on a path towards Sunstreaker and that shiny red Stunticon; they were circling each other slowly, eyes scrutinizing the other's paint job. It was enough to distract him for a few minutes until he realized that if left to themselves they might very well circle all night.

When he rounded one of the supporting columns, he almost walked straight into a pair of strong, grey legs.

"Um, hi! Nice digs!" he squeaked, looking way up at Megatron's face.

The warlord arched a bemused optic arch at him.

"Thanks for the invitation?" Bumblebee said, and it came out as more of a question than he had intended.

Yes, okay, he'd spent hours talking to this mech at the Christmas gathering. And Megatron had smiled at him at least one since then, and hadn't aimed at him with his now-absent fusion cannon.

That didn't change the fact that the Decepticon leader was big, and strong, and intimidating, and capable of killing Bumblebee without really exercising himself too much. But he was unarmed, abiding by the trucde – not that that made him safe. Megatron wouldn't be harmless unless he was in stasis, maybe not even then.

Megatron's mouth plates quirked in a tiny smile. "Follow me. I want to show you something." He turned and walked towards a dark recess behind the column.

Bumblebee hesitated. Following the renowned warlord with almost an entire species on his conscience into a dark room? Not the safest course for a mech who wanted to see the end of the war.

Still. It had been okay last time they talked.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a strengthening sip of the clear, sweet high-grade, Bumblebee followed.

Megatron led the way around a dark corner and up a gently climbing set of stairs carved through the rock. At the top of the passage he palmed a door lock, and the hallway opened up into a large spacious room. The warlord walked to the center of it and turned back towards Bumblebee.

"These are my personal quarters. Only myself, Soundwave and Hook have access."

Bumblebee nodded, trying to conceal the strain in his legs from climbing those Megatron-sized steps. He looked around with unfaked interest.

The space was deceptively big, with curved walls and a low, domed ceiling. There was a giant berth along one wall, an open washrack tiled in soft, muted silver towards the back. The front wall was one large window, floor to ceiling, and Bumblebee walked over to it eagerly.

"Primus," he breathed.

He could see the entire inside of the volcano. Megatron's room was the highest one, so even the private rooms on the upper floors couldn't hide any secrets from the watching warlord. Which was unnerving and intriguing at once, now that he thought about it.

"You like my base?" Megatron said, his voice a low rumble behind him.

"It's completely awesome, sir," Bumblebee grinned. "I'm seriously impressed."

"Good," Megatron replied, and his voice was closer than Bumblebee had expected. "I gave the Constructicons free reign through the whole process."

"Clever," Bumblebee said, turning to see the warlord standing just behind him. "Even Grapple was impressed, I heard him. And he's such a perfectionist, if he says it's good it's pretty slagging good."

Megatron just grunted, before sitting down next to Bee, raising his own cube to his lips. "I had some requirements for them, but they've really performed well on this one. I think all my boxes are checked." He drank deeply from the cube. "I wanted somewhere where the energon could be easily manufactured, that could manage with a skeleton crew, but also could fit all of my Decepticons. It needed to be able to function as a secondary base if needed, and it had to be easy to defend."

Bumblebee really didn't want to, but he had to ask. "Defend from us?" he asked quietly.

Megatron didn't say anything at first, just looked into his cube. Bumblebee had almost given up on getting an answer when the big mech ex-vented heavily. "I hope not," he muttered.

"Me either," Bumblebee replied in the same tones. "Want to hear what I think?"

That earned him a small smile. "I haven't been able to stop you yet, have I, little scout?"

He had to chuckle at that. Apparently, he wasn't going to be offlined by the grey mech today either. "I think you're off to a great start here. If you want peace," he paused, then, looking up at Megatron, catching his eye, "I think it's within reach. You just have to accept it."

"Yes," Megatron replied with another heavy ventilation. Bumblebee could feel the warm air against his plating. "That's what concerns me." He pulled out another cube for himself, and gave another to Bumblebee as well even though his own was still half-full.

"Why?" Bumblebee said. He was still looking up at that silver face. Megatron seemed – troubled, somehow. Not that Bee would claim to be really good at reading that particular face, but at this point he was probably the best Megatron-reader the Autobots had.

"Because we've been at war for millions of years," Megatron replied thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I know how to stake out a different course for my Decepticons and myself."

"With all due respect, sir," Bumblebee said, and now he grinned, "I think your Decepticons will be staking out that course right along with you." He hesitated, gauging the situation, before reaching out carefully and placing his hand against the warlord's massive upper arm. "As will we."

Megatron eyed the hand for a moment, but didn't do anything to dislodge it. So Bee left it there.

"Just look out there," Bee continued. "These mecha are seeing peace in the distance already."

Megatron smiled slightly at that. "I know. They have no shame."

"Some of them don't," Bumblebee agreed. "Scrap that, most of them don't." Because really, from here, it was blatantly obvious what was going on. He could see Ramjet, smothered between Cliffjumper and Brawn, in one of the upper rooms. The one next to it had that Combaticon helicopter doing something very interesting to Blades and Groove. Hoist and Grapple were entertaining two or three of the Constructicons in one of the lower rooms – from here, it was hard to tell how many they were, but Bumblebee blamed that on the way they were entwined rather than wondering if his own sensors were faulty. And in the bottom corner of the large space, in one of the dug-out rooms with cushions all over, there was something going on inside a pile of cassettes that he'd rather not look too closely at.

"Can you blame them, though, sir?" he asked, watching Megatron from the corner of his optic. The warlord was taking in the scenes in front of them with a kind of bemused exasperation. "Part of it's the high-grade. Part of it is this magnificent setting. But most of it – at least, that's what I think – is this feeling that we have that the war might be coming to an end. That we don't have to shoot at you anymore. That you don't have to starve. That we can actually recharge without fearing for tomorrow, because tomorrow will be like today."

"I can't blame them," Megatron agreed. "After all, they're not the only ones seeking… reassurance." He looked at Bumblebee then, with a guarded expression that was almost a frown.

Bee got it though. "Hey, I've got three days," he grinned, raising his cube. "You keep the energon coming, I'll keep talking."

"Good," Megatron replied, and the frown melted away. "I have no objections to that plan."

* * *

"So I guess it's you we have to thank for this," Ratchet said, raising his cube at the communications officer.

"Negative," Soundwave replied. He leaned back into the cushions slightly. "Idea: Thundercracker's. Told Skywarp: told Starscream. Starscream: convinced Soundwave." He smirked at Ratchet, his bare mouth plates showing the expression clearly. "Soundwave: very amenable. Easy to convince."

The retracted facemask had been a surprise that Ratchet hadn't seen coming. Granted, they were in moderate privacy in here; Soundwave had led the way to one of the second floor rooms, one that was tastefully decorated with soft padding and cushions. At some point on the climb upstairs the facemask had disappeared, and now Ratchet couldn't stop staring at the pale faceplates that had been hidden behind it.

Soundwave was, to not put too fine a point on it, drop-dead gorgeous. Even with that visor still in place.

"Very amenable, huh?" Ratchet grinned.

"Affirmative. Query," Soundwave said, turning his head towards the medic. "Ratchet: enjoyed the gift?"

"The high-grade? It was exquisite," Ratchet replied, leaning back in unconscious mimicry of Soundwave's pose. "I did wonder about your reasoning for it, though."

The navy mech hesitated. "Soundwave… merely wished to express appreciation. Also: attempt at conveying interest in repeating occurrence. Christmas party: very enjoyable." Another pause. "Ratchet's company: very enjoyable."

Ratchet stared. He really didn't know what to say. He couldn't even come up with anything snarky, which was unusual for him.

He had to say something, though. Soundwave's faceplates, way too expressive without the mask in place, were showing the beginning of a frown.

So he blurted out the truth.

"I had fun then too. Talking to you. It was – nice. More than nice." Frag it, and here he thought he was old enough to not have to deal with the pede-in-mouth thing. He grinned, shook his head. "What I mean to say is, thank you. I enjoyed your company as well. I've been looking forward to this since you called Prowl last week." Now it was his turn to hesitate, looking over at the spymaster. "I was… I was hoping I would be able to talk to you again."

Soundwave nodded. "Confession: desire to see Ratchet main motivation for making invitation."

And didn't that make Ratchet's spark give a strange little flutter. For all that he'd thought he was too old for this, his frame and spark was reacting as though he was a nervous youngling.

"I'm very glad you did," he said softly.

Soundwave reached out then, carefully, letting his hand rest against Ratchet's red digits. "So am I," he replied.

* * *

Optimus had wandered the room twice already, looking. He'd been stopped several times by some of the assembled mechs who wanted to converse with him – everything from Mirage commenting on the décor to Jazz bringing him high-grade to Onslaught, of all mechs, expressing his hope that both sides would abide by the truce. He offered thanks, opinions and reassurances without really paying attention to what he said, optics always soon moving on to look for the one he had hoped to find. But the tricolored Decepticon second-in-command was nowhere to be seen.

As he was about to start his third lap, he spotted Seeker wings in front of the bar. Not the one he was looking for, but one who would know. He smiled and nodded politely to Hook, expressing his admiration over the facility, before excusing himself and walking over to Skywarp.

"Prime," the purple Seeker smirked. Silverbolt gave the Prime a respectful nod, and if his faceplates had darkened slightly in embarrassment, well, it was unusual company for him to keep. Not unexpected, though. And Optimus was hardly one to point fingers.

"Skywarp," he nodded back. "Tell me, is your trine leader here this evening?"

"Starscream? He'd better be," Skywarp replied. "He's been pining about this all week. Hold on." His optics unfocused for a moment, and then he shook his head in irritation. "The slagger's aloft. I'll take you to him, Prime."

"I don't want to intrude," Optimus said, even though he really did.

"No, it's good, he wants to see you. He's just… being Starscream." Skywarp turned to the Aerialbot leader, raised a hand to stroke his cheek gently. "I'll just be a moment. Don't go anywhere?"

"I'll be waiting right here," Silverbolt nodded, and the looks they exchanged made Prime feel as though he was imposing on a supremely private moment.

But then Skywarp grinned and put his hand on Optimus's shoulder. "Come on then."

It was the first time the Prime had been teleported like this, and he would be quite content if he never got to try it again.

"He's there," Skywarp said, pointing. "Comm me if you need to get back inside. But don't wait too long, or I might be busy." He smirked, and then vanished again.

Optimus found himself on top of the volcanic outcrop that was all that was visible above sea level. It had gotten dark while they were inside, and cold by human standards. The stars were out in force, so brilliantly visible here where there was no manmade light to conceal them.

He looked at where the purple mech had been pointing.

Starscream sat near the ragged top of the island. He had his knees pulled up under his chin, his wings flaring gently, optics staring into the distance.

It was a breathtaking sight.

Optimus walked closer, making no effort to conceal his approach. He wanted Starscream to know it was him. He wanted the other mech to stay where he was and not fly off. Most of all, he desperately wanted that dark helm to turn towards him and smile.

Starscream didn't even acknowledge him. Prime tried to ignore the brief hurt he felt in his spark.

"Good evening, Starscream," he said, lowering himself down to sit next to the Air Commander.

"Good evening, Prime," Starscream replied evenly, still staring out at the ocean.

That was the only response he got. Starscream didn't move.

"Are you hiding out here for the view or the solitude?" Optimus asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Neither." Starscream responded in the same even tones. "How did you get up here?"

"Skywarp," Optimus shrugged. "I asked him where you were, and he brought me here."

Starscream lifted his head, turned to look at him at last. "You asked for me?"

"Yes." Optimus smiled, letting his facemask retract. "I must admit, I had been looking forward to talking to you again."

Starscream stared at him for a moment before turning away.

Optimus frowned slightly. This wasn't the reception he had expected – granted, he had fluctuated between Starscream jumping into his arms and Starscream slapping his face and flying away, but this silent indifference hadn't been in any scenario. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Starscream's head whipped around fast enough that it must have hurt his neck cabling. "No! No." He ex-vented deeply. "No, please stay. I – I apologize." He smirked then, shaking his head. "I have been apprehensive about this, I confess. I know we were friendly last time." Prime smiled at the blatant understatement. "I wasn't sure where we stood now."

Optimus thought about that for a moment. He hoped Starscream would benefit from hearing the truth, because he felt the need to tell him.

"I've been thinking about you," he confessed. "Your smile. The way you laugh, when I can manage to make you forget to restrain yourself. The conversations we had." He smiled then, lifting a hand and letting it run down the flat expanse of one wing. "You've been driving me to distraction, Starscream."

Okay, that was a bit more than he had intended to say. All true, of course, but perhaps more than the Seeker beside him could bear to hear. He hoped Starscream wouldn't panic and rush off.

He didn't.

"Oh, thank Primus," Starscream whispered, leaning back into the touch. "I've been so afraid it was just me. I was so nervous about coming here tonight."

Prime couldn't stop himself then. He used his other hand to turn Starscream's face towards him, then leaned in and gently kissed his Seeker's lips.

After a moment, he pulled back. "I'm so glad you did."

Starscream smiled then, a beautiful expression that made the Prime's spark do interesting things in its casing and earned a purring sensation from the Matrix. "As am I, Optimus." He sighed, letting his head rest against the Prime's shoulder. "Thank you for coming to find me."

Optimus smiled and leaned down to nuzzle at the dark helm. He took advantage of the Seeker's position to put his arm more firmly around him.

"Thundercracker said you looked for me at every skirmish," Starscream murmured after a while.

Optimus nodded. "I did. At times, I could barely spare enough attention to tell Megatron to cease and desist." He chuckled, remembering. "On one occasion, Bumblebee had to do it for me." Emboldened by the way that Starscream seemed to curve into him, he used both hands to gently slide the Seeker into his lap. Starscream made a quiet, satisfied noise and nuzzled into his chest plating. "I've been so happy every time a skirmish has been resolved without violence - aside from the occasional punch, at least," Optimus continued. "I couldn't bear treating you as an enemy, Starscream."

"No one treats anyone as an enemy anymore," the Seeker replied against his chest. Optimus could feel his spark pulsing in response to the closeness. "At least not between factions. I do believe that the strange idea your SIC had has contributed to end the war."

"I hope so," the Prime nodded. "It would be wonderful to be able to see you without being in danger from your faction." He kissed the grey helm, then paused. "Between factions, you said. Inside your own faction, then?"

"Old animosities die hard," Starscream replied. One blue hand drew aimless patterns on Optimus's chest armor. "At least he doesn't hit me anymore. Not like he used to, anyway. Whatever your little yellow scout told him, it made him reflect on his ways."

"I wish I could keep you safe," Optimus murmured, cradling Starscream closer.

"Just never leave," his Seeker whispered, curling up in his lap.

"Sounds like a plan," Optimus agreed. He'd not let Starscream go, not this time.

Peace better be within reach, or he would slagging well enforce it anyway.

* * *

"Thundercracker!"

The blue Seeker turned. He'd missed that voice.

Fireflight came running, sliding to a stop a few meters away. He looked up at him shyly. "Hi."

"Hey, Fireflight." Thundercracker smiled at him. "It's good to see you. I'm glad you came."

"Me too," the little jet grinned. Thundercracker couldn't help thinking of him as little, even though Fireflight was not that much smaller than him. He was just so young. "Will you show me around?"

"Of course," the Seeker replied. Never mind the fact that he hadn't been here before and had arrived just before Fireflight did. He wasn't about to let the easily distracted mech wander off on his own, he might never find him again.

Though as they began walking, he wasn't sure who was really showing whom around. Fireflight was the one pointing everything out so Thundercracker would see it. And there was a lot to see. They weren't moving quickly, stopping to gawk every few steps.

Fireflight stared at the base. Thundercracker watched Fireflight.

He absorbed every smile, every wide-eyed expression. Every comment and question directed at him. The way Fireflight's optics just sparkled with excitement at everything he saw. And when Fireflight took to the air because he wanted to get a better look at the inlaid lighting, Thundercracker followed.

Looking at the lights turned to seeing the apex of the cave turned to looking at the little rooms dug into the walls. And when Fireflight flew into one that had deep blue walls and starry patterns in the ceiling, a long, shadowed room with soft flooring and cushions to soothe tired wings, Thundercracker was right by his side.

"This place is wonderful," the Aerialbot breathed, leaning his head back to look at the starry ceiling. "Do you think these are constellations? From Earth? Maybe from Cybertron. Who do you think placed all the little diodes, did the Constructions do that?"

"I think you'll get crinked cabling in your neck if you keep standing like that," Thundercracker replied gently. He walked over to the smaller mech, sitting down next to him. "Come on."

Fireflight giggled, settling down next to Thundercracker. Almost in his lap, actually, not that the Seeker minded. "Look up," he prompted, forcing himself to look away from the eager look on Fireflight's face to do the same.

"Oh!" Fireflight exclaimed. "I feel like I'm under open sky."

Thundercracker nodded. "See the one that looks like a reaching hand? I remember that one from Cybertron. And the one next to it, that looks like a beaker."

"Those ones are from Earth, though," Fireflight said, pointing at another part of the ceiling. "They're called Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Earth has lovely names for their constellations."

"Cybertron's names for the stars were nice, too," Thundercracker replied. He took Fireflight's hand, pointing with it as he talked. "Trionis. Materlum. Amical. Mernum, the sister-star to Materlum that drifted off at some point – Starscream or Skyfire can probably tell you why. Edion Caedis and Eidolon. There are stars from almost every system Cybertron passed through here." He used Fireflight's hand to point out a constellation that would always stand out to him among the others. "That's the Grace of Primus. It was visible in the sky the night Starscream, Skywarp and I pledged ourselves to each other. We could always see it in Vos, but it was invisible in Iacon."

"You know so much, Thundercracker," Fireflight said, turning to smile at the older mech. "Will you teach me?"

"Of course," Thundercracker replied, smiling back. "Of course I'll teach you. I'd be honored." And he would. He'd been an instructor, once, and had loved every minute of it. Maybe that's why he felt such a pull towards Fireflight – the young mech gave him a chance to be that part of himself again.

"Good. I'm glad." Fireflight smiled again, and Thundercracker couldn't help but smile back.

He had forgotten that he was still holding the other flier's hand until, with a deft flick of the wrist, Fireflight twisted their hands and interlaced their fingers. Thundercracker looked at their joined hands in surprise. "Fireflight…"

"Yes?"

And there was something in that tone. Thundercracker looked back up, and barely had time to catch Fireflight's optics before the younger mech kissed him.

It was shy, gentle, and completely unexpected.

And Thundercracker suddenly understood that this was what he wanted. He'd thought he wanted to shelter, protect, teach, like he had before. He'd been wrong.

Oh, how wrong he'd been.

Moaning into the kiss, he put his arms around the younger flier and pulled him close, until he collapsed backwards into the cushions with Fireflight on top. The Aerialbot was warm, and eager, all smooth plating and strong frame, and Thundercracker realized they were going to be in there for a while.

That was alright by him.

* * *

"Everyone's shacking up," Silverbolt observed, watching Sideswipe and Smokescreen cajole a not-quite-reluctant Astrotrain towards one of the larger rooms, snagging up Blitzwing as well as they passed him. "Is that why you invited us here? For four-person frag fests?"

"You have quite the mouth on you," Skywarp grinned, and Silverbolt could feel the Seeker's hand moving up his back between his wings. "Much as I appreciate your alliteration, I think it's just a happy side effect."

"A side effect?" Silverbolt repeated, arching an eyebrow as Motormaster and two of his stunticons hesitantly approached Hot Spot, First Aid and Streetwise. "Of what?"

"Of not being afraid and battle-ready for once," Skywarp said simply. "Some of these mechs, I think, are acting on long-standing attraction. Some of them are enjoying the chance to explore. Some are just making friends."

"Which one are you?" Silverbolt asked, turning on the pool's edge to watch Skywarp's face.

He was rewarded with a brilliant grin and a quick kiss to the hand that Skywarp was holding. "Me? I'm enjoying the side effect that is finally getting something I didn't even know I was missing."

Silverbolt looked away, then, but he didn't hide his smile. Or his faint blush. "And what did you get?"

"You have to ask?" Skywarp squeezed his hand. "I'd thought I made it clear."

"Indulge me."

Skywarp leaned closer until his chin was resting on Silverbolt's shoulder, letting him whisper into his audio. "The company of the most amazing mech I've ever talked to, who's kind and sweet and slagging attractive and who lets me believe that this war won't last forever."

Silverbolt laughed, embarrassed but happy. "Flatterer."

Skywarp tilted his head until his cheek was against Silverbolt's plating. "Well, yeah. But it's true."

Silverbolt busied himself with watching Ratbat and Rumble splashing at the other side of the pool under the watchful and strangely caring eyes of Bluestreak and Blaster. Blaster's own cassettes were nowhere to be seen. Blast Off was standing behind them, but he wasn't watching the cassettes.

"You said at Christmas," Silverbolt began quietly, "that you wished things were different."

"I would give anything," Skywarp replied, and his hand wandered down to rest around Silverbolt's waist. "It was hard to envision a different future, then. I was fairly sure that I'd just been given a taste of something good that I'd never get to experience again." He sighed. "Decepticons never get to have anything nice."

Silverbolt hesitated. He didn't quite dare trust this. With a rueful smile, he realized that he must be feeling some of what Skywarp had felt at Christmas – the doubt that this would last.

But the 'Cons had invited them. Not only that, he suspected that the Constructicons must have had hopes that something like this could happen when they'd built this place, because this was no mere energon conversion facility. This was built to impress. And the Constructicons never did anything that Megatron hadn't signed off on.

"I think it might be different this time," he said quietly. "Maybe you can keep what you have."

Skywarp lifted his head, looked at him. "Oh? What do I have?"

Silverbolt turned, leaned his forehead against the other mech's. "Me."

* * *

 _A/N: I made up TC's stars and constellations. Much as I tried, I couldn't find any real names of stars that were visible from Cybertron. Hopefully you'll forgive me for that._

 _Let me know what you think! Next chapter on Sunday._


	7. Ask, and you'll be given

_A/N: So, this chapter is shorter than I intended. I got food poisoned and haven't been able to finish it as I wanted. But that means we save the rest to the next chapter :) Depending on how soon I get better, the next chapter may be delayed. I'll probably have it out sometime next week._

 _Thanks to reviewers UnknownAlien and reza0807, and the rest of you who are reading! I'm glad you like my little ball of fluff :)_

* * *

 **Arc 2: My funny what now?**

* * *

Chapter 3: Ask, and you'll be given the key to this heart of mine

* * *

Jazz sauntered over to his mate. "Heya, Prowler."

"Hello, Jazz." Prowl didn't look at him, but his doorwing pressed back into his caressing palm.

"Ya know, ya don't have to work now," Jazz said, grinning slowly. "Everybody's behavin'. Or misbehavin', as it were." He smirked.

"I know that. Someone still needs to keep control of this."

"And it jus' has t' be you, doesn't it," Jazz sighs, caressing the other doorwing. "An' here Ah was hopin' t' drag ya over ta sample one o' those hot pools."

That earned him a glance, at least. "The pools are heated?"

"Volcanic energy, mah mech," Jazz grinned, and he knew it was a predatory expression.

Prowl hesitated, then shook his head. "Nevertheless," he said, "someone has to be on duty."

"Nah, they don't," Jazz said, leaning in to kiss the doorwing hinges. Prowl's gasp and quickly heating frame was a reward for that, but the visored mech wasn't satisfied yet. "It's a vacation, Prowler. No one's got t' be on duty. Pit, even Prime's let his guard down. Much further than anyone would consider advisable, but still…"

"Yes," Prowl replied. "Prime's let his guard down. All the more reason that I shouldn't."

Jazz circled his mate. He had by no means given up yet. "So… are ya keepin' track of everyone's whereabouts?"

"I am."

"Aaaand… ya need t' stand right there t' do that?"

Prowl gave him a look, and Jazz grinned. "Ah mean… Can Ah convince ya t' move about twenty feet t' the left?"

Prowl looked from Jazz to the spot he was trying to drag him to. The pool was sheltered, built so that it would be hard to look inside but still easy to keep an optic on everyone outside. It was a very clever piece of architecture.

"Come on, Prowler," Jazz coaxed. "Ya know where they are. Prime is…"

"… on top of the volcano, with Starscream," Prowl replied, a slight smile growing on his face plates. "And I see what you're doing. Ratchet is with Soundwave on the second floor. Wheeljack is drinking with one fifth of the Constructicons and some of the Combaticons."

"Ironhide's just over there, by the bar. Bluestreak's by the pool with Blaster." Jazz tugged lightly on a doorwing, gratified when Prowl followed slowly. "Brawn and Cliffjumper are fragging instead of fighting. Sideswipe's exploring wingplay."

"Sunstreaker's in the detailing parlor with Dead End," Prowl finished. "Rumble's in the center pool and I frankly would rather not know what Frenzy's doing right now. And Megatron's with Bumblebee."

"See? Ya've got control over the trouble makers," Jazz purred, tugging a little harder. Pit if he was going to let this holiday pass him by without taking full advantage of the Decepticon hospitality. It was a very different kind than he was used to.

He knew he'd won as Prowl's pede hit the hot water and his mate gasped. "That is hot."

"It's lovely," Jazz confirmed. "Heated by th' volcano, enriched with minerals, Ah think even Ratchet would approve. C'mon." With one last tug, he managed to get Prowl into the pool.

"Oh, that is heavenly," the SIC breathed, letting his frame sink into the water. It was deep enough that they could soak, but not so deep that they vanished under the surface.

"Ah know," Jazz said, moving around and plastering himself up against Prowl's front. "Way Ah figure it, we owe Megatron a gift basket for this."

"I'll have Bumblebee deliver it," Prowl murmured, his hands moving over Jazz's warm frame. "He seems to have discovered the soft side of Megatron."

"Who knew Megatron even had a soft side," Jazz purred, arching as Prowl found a particularly sensitive transformation seam. "Primus. Two gift baskets."

Prowl silenced him then, in the most effective way Jazz knew.

* * *

They sat together on the mountaintop until the horizon started brightening with impending sunrise. Starscream blinked. At some point, he'd fallen into light recharge in the Prime's arms, and now he was stiff and sore all over.

Optimus's hand was moving slowly, gently over his wing plating. He was awake, then.

Starscream was half convinced he himself was still dreaming.

But no, that hand was real. So was the warm pulse of the Prime's spark behind his plating, just next to Starscream's helm. He could feel its comforting energy, it seemed to go straight from the Prime's spark to his own.

It was downright scary. If Starscream ever confessed to such things.

"Good morning," Optimus murmured, his mouth plates nuzzling against Starscream's helm. "How are you feeling?"

"I need to stretch," Starscream replied. "I'm not used to recharging whilst sitting up." He couldn't find the will to move, though. Optimus's lap was supremely comfortable.

A dark blue hand cradled his jaw carefully. "For what it's worth, I enjoyed your company very much."

Then the Prime kissed him again. It was just as sweet, gentle and chaste as last night, and Starscream felt as though his struts were melting.

Not that he was telling the Prime that. It was still too new, too embarrassing.

"Of course you did," he smirked when the kiss ended. "I am very good company." Forcing himself to move away from that comforting spark, he stood up in one graceful motion. He walked a few steps over to the edge of the cliff, and stretched his arms up over his head.

He could _feel_ Optimus's optics on his plating. So he looked back over his shoulder, giving the Prime a smirk. "I'm going to work this kink out of my wings. Be right back."

Then he took off.

The air against his plating was a liberation. He transformed, feeling the gravity pulling at him, reveling in being able to shake it off. The tight turns and steep ascents woke him up proper, both frame and processor, until he felt present in his own plating again.

He couldn't resist the urge to show off. It was intoxicating, knowing that the Prime was just down there, looking at him.

He flew, and the sun rose, turning white plating to gold, red to burning fire and blue to gleaming sapphire. Starscream corkscrewed through the sky, threw himself into a steep dive, only to pull out of it at the last minute. He executed another low, lazy spin, turning in a wide circle before transforming back into root mode and touching down softly in front of the Prime.

Optimus was wearing a very gratifying stunned look.

Starscream grinned at him, preening.

"You," Optimus murmured, walking closer and lifting both hands as if to touch, "are spark-rendingly beautiful. Divine." One hand cradled Starscream's cheek, a loving, almost worshipful caress.

Starscream smiled, shuttering his optics and tilted his head into the Prime's hand. "You liked that?"

"I loved that," Optimus replied, and Starscream could feel his other hand on his own waist, pulling him close. "That was a privilege to watch. I don't think I've seen you fly for joy in, well, ever."

"Don't often get the chance," Starscream sighed contentedly, letting his own hands rest against the Prime's broad chest. "We're always short on time, or fuel, or both."

"Well, we have plenty of both now," Optimus breathed, hands running over Starscream's flight-hot plating. " _Primus._ " The tone was half prayer, half supplication.

"Much as I love the freedom," Starscream whispered, looking at where his hand was splayed over the Prime's spark, "I need to refuel. And I want to show you something."

"Anything," Optimus said, sounding almost breathless.

Starscream pulled away, catching a few of Prime's fingers in his own. "Then come."

He tugged at those fingers gently until the big mech followed, then led him down to the hidden corner of the rock. As he laid his hand against the spot of rock that was indistinguishable from the rest, he turned to tug the Prime close. And he would be damned before he told anyone how he relished in those arms around his waist.

"Here," he said, pulling at Optimus's hand and placing it against the rock next to his until the stone heated under his hand. "Now it's coded to your energy signature as well."

"Starscream," Optimus murmured, mouth moving gently over his helm vent. "What are you giving me?"

Starscream was silent as the rockface opened, then walked inside the private elevator with the Prime's arms still around his waist. He twisted in his grip, looking up at him. "Myself," he replied earnestly. "To keep. If you wish to."

"If I wish to?" Optimus smiled, and Starscream melted. He had the feeling that would be the way for things from now on. "Starscream, I dearly wish to. I'd be honored."

"Good," Starscream whispered, and this time he was the one to initiate the kiss.

He barely even noticed when they got to his personal apartment and Prime picked him up to carry him inside.

* * *

*Rumble?*

Rumble grunted. He was recharging, fraggit.

*Rumble? Rumble please, know you awake.*

Rumble growled and unshuttered his optics. *What, Ratbat?*

His youngest brother was sitting on his chest, looking as forlorn as only Ratbat could.

*We alone. Everything silent.* The flier huddled down against Rumble's plating. *You think everyone's gone?*

*Gone?* Rumble stared. Then he got it. *Ya had recharge terrors again, huh.*

Ratbat nodded, looking a bit ashamed.

*Come on, then. I'll show ya. Nobody's gone.* He pushed the bat off and got to his feet. The little cranny they'd snuck into to recharge was pleasantly cassette-sized, so he had to hunch a bit to get back out. Ratbat followed him like he was glued to Rumble's leg.

*Reach out over the bond,* Rumble instructed. *What do ya feel?*

Ratbat shuttered his optics and tilted his head. *Soundwave… recharging. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw… also recharging. Frenzy… recharging? I think?*

*Yeah, slagger's rechargin',* Rumble replied. Passed out in post-interface bliss, more like, but the kid didn't need to know that.

*Ravage… Rumble, what Ravage doing?*

Rumble focused on the bond with the cat. She was amused by something. *Hey Rav, what're ya watchin'?*

*Astrotrain,* Ravage replied. *He's met his match, it seems.* She sent him – just him, not Ratbat, because, obviously, M-rating – an image capture of Astrotrain all tied up in silver rope in front of one of those Autobots with doorwings and the red twin.

*Huh. Kinky. Didn't know they were into that.*

*Apparently, he asked for it. They just obliged.*

*That's a first.*

*Ravage, come down?* Ratbat asked.

*In a moment,* the cat replied. *I need to watch until the end here.*

Rumble knew what she meant by that. The cat had gotten herself good and itchy while watching, and that itch needed scratching. She didn't want to do that in front of the kid.

*Gotcha. C'mon, bro.*

Ratbat squeaked and followed Rumble out into the open space.

*Can splash again?*

*Not now, Rats. Everyone's rechargin'. But I can get ya some energon if ya like?*

*Want Soundwave,* Ratbat said petulantly.

*He's rechargin',* Rumble replied, holding on to his patience as much as he could. *Let's go over here. Ya can splash a bit if ya're quiet.*

*Want _Soundwave_ ,* Ratbat repeated, sounding like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

And to Rumble's annoyance, the kid's agitation was enough to pull their carrier out of recharge.

*Go back to sleep, boss, I got this,* he commed Soundwave privately. *Rats just had a recharge terror.*

*Rumble: certain? Ratbat: upset,* Soundwave replied.

'Yeah, don't worry. If ya comm him now he'll go all ballistic and ya'll have to come down here, and then ya never get to talk to Ratchet properly.* He paused, probing the bond. *Unless ya already asked him?*

*…negative.*

*Didn't think so. Ya would have felt either a lot happier or a lot more upset. Stay with the doc, I've got this.*

*Thank you, Rumble.*

Rumble turned to his little brother. Ratbat's vents had started hitching, a sure sign that he was on his way to a full meltdown.

So Rumble did what he rarely did anymore. He gathered Ratbat up and carried him. It was awkward, since the little cassette was not that much smaller than him, but he managed. He was more than strong enough.

Ratbat's vents hitched again, but he curled into a ball in Rumble's arms. Good; that meant he was calming down.

It was just after dawn, more or less, and the main cavern was almost deserted. Rumble walked over to the pool and put Ratbat down on the low wall surrounding the turquoise waters. *Wanna splash, Rats?*

*Wanna splash.* Ratbat uncurled again, and smiled a tremulous smile up at his older brother. *You, too?*

*In a moment. I'm still half in recharge, I'll sit here and watch you for a while.*

*Okay.*

As Ratbat splashed into the shallow water, Rumble climbed up to sit on the wall.

*Query: status?*

*He's calmin' down now, boss. We're gonna splash for a while. Enjoy your downtime.*

*Affirmative. Rumble: appreciated.*

Rumble grinned. *Back at ya, boss. Come back with good news. Rumble out.*

He might not be Ravage, but he was no slouch. He heard the silent pedesteps coming up behind him. It would almost be enough for him to trigger his piledrivers, if it hadn't been for where and when he was.

Soundwave wouldn't be happy if he messed this up.

"Hi."

"Hey," Rumble grunted, his vocalizer still a bit staticky from recharging.

The green Autobot sat down next to him, pedes dangling into the water. "I'm Hound."

"I know who ya are. And ya know who I am."

The Autobot chuckled. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a while. Rumble didn't feel like talking. Sure, the gathering was about being friendly with the Autobots - and he was friendly, slaggit, he hadn't pounded anyone yet – but the sheer amount if friendliness going on around him put his plating on edge. He'd had quite enough feeling the echoes through the twin bond earlier of slaggin' Frenzy fragging those Autodork cassettes, thank you very much.

"You're not – um…"

"Fraggin' anyone?" Rumble sneered. "No. Not interested." He nodded towards Ratbat, splashing happily through the water. "'Sides, I'm on babysittin' duty."

The silence fell again, but this time it was different. Rumble could feel the dumb Autobot shooting glances at him from time to time.

Ratbat had finally looked up from his splashing and noticed that Rumble had company. The spraying water from the quickly approaching cassette was enough to make Rumble shield his optics with his hands. "Slaggit, Rats, stop that!"

"Hi!" Ratbat chirped brightly, completely disregarding his older brother in favor of the new green mech he'd never talked to before. "Wanna splash?"

Hound chuckled. "Yeah sure, kiddo, I'll splash with you." He shot a quick smile at Rumble, then stood up and joined the little cassette in the water. The pool that was deep for Ratbat reached to the middle of Hound's lower leg.

Rumble was content to stay behind and watch. He wouldn't remain alone for long – slight sensation over the bond let him know that Ravage had achieved her objective and would be joining him quite soon.

"Hey, little mech."

That was not Ravage.

How in the pit had that idiot gotten so close without him noticing?

"Hey, Blaster." He could be friendly. He could.

The brightly-colored mech sat down on the wall next to him. "He likes the pool, doesn't he?"

"He'd live in there if he could," Rumble replied.

"Yeah, I get that. He's still young."

Rumble didn't reply. Because, duh. Anyone with semi-functional optics could see that Ratbat was young.

"So are you having fun?"

Rumble eyed the Autobot skeptically. "Ya don't have to talk to me, ya know. I'm fine. I think I might get some more high-grade."

"So you're not having fun."

"Rumble likes the drinking," Ravage said softly, leaping up to sit on Blaster's other side. "He doesn't like the socializing. Hello, Blaster."

*Don't need your help.*

*Yes, you do, brother mine. Now be quiet.*

Blaster looked from Ravage to him, but wisely refrained from commenting.

"So where are your cassettes, Blaster?" Ravage asked silkily. Rumble seriously considered walking away and getting some high-grade.

"Recharging, mostly," Blaster replied. "Steelie and Ramhorn are with Frenzy, I think."

"Yes, we noticed that," Ravage purred. "Had to mute the bond, didn't we, Rumble?"

Rumble sneered, but he wasn't quite paying attention to her. Just Steeljaw and Ramhorn? Not Eject and Rewind?

"The twins, I'm not sure. Rewind's somewhere, talking to Skyfire and… Reflector? I think? And Onslaught. Eject is…" Blaster turned, looking back towards the entrance to the cave. "There. Hey, little mech."

"Hi, Blaster," a cheerful voice chirped. Rumble froze.

"Hello, Eject," Ravage said. She turned her head slightly, and winked at Rumble.

Winked. Slagging cat.

"I'm goin' to go get some high-grade," Rumble muttered, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards the bar.

"Great idea! I'll go with you!"

Fraggit.

"So is this base awesome or what?" Eject said, falling into step next to him. "You been exploring?"

Rumble shook his helm. "Been watchin' Ratbat."

"Oh, stuck watching the little-leaguer. I guess that explains why I haven't seen you around." Eject paused, glanced at him. "I was a bit surprised when you weren't with Frenzy earlier."

So Eject had been a part of that. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't suspected.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Rumble stared at the bar, but he could see Eject from the corner of his optic. The other cassette was constantly looking at him, then looking away.

"So…" Eject began, when the silence started gaining physical weight. "About Christmas." He grinned, looking sheepish. "I've never had that much high-grade in my life."

Rumble snorted, despite himself. "Yeah, me either. Soundwave was not amused."

"Neither was Blaster. Especially since I spent most of the night purging my tanks into the berth."

Rumble couldn't help it. He giggled. Eject grinned at him.

"So…" Eject said again. "You remember?"

"I remember," Rumble replied quietly, the giggling mood vanishing. Here it came.

"Yeah. Um. Man, this is awkward." Eject winced, rubbing the back of his neck in a very human gesture. "I didn't mean it, you know."

Rumble stared at him. "Didn't mean it? Which part?" Because he could totally handle one of them, but not the other.

Eject stared back in surprise. "Which part… oh! Oh Primus, no, I didn't mean it like that! Man, talk about striking out," he muttered, then vented heavily. "Okay. Here goes. And I hope you don't hate me." He reached out, pulled Rumble into one of the empty alcoves along the wall. Not like Blaster and Ravage didn't know exactly where they were, but it was a bit more private at least.

Rumble could feel his four-legged sibling being all smug. He pulsed his irritation right back at her, and was rewarded with the emotional equivalent of the cat sticking out her glossa at him.

"Listen," Eject said, looking back to make sure they were out of sight for prying eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. The thing in the woods, yeah, that was fun. But I never meant for it to go down like that."

"And the talk afterwards?" Rumble asked, and though he would never admit it, he was half afraid to hear the answer.

"The talk afterwards…" Eject sat down on a conveniently located pillow. "That scares me. But I did mean that." He looked up then, visor inscrutable. "You're worth more than a frag in the woods, Rumble. You deserve more than that."

"I see." He sat down as well, opposite the other. He had a feeling he should be saying something else, but his mind was blank.

"Can you forgive me?" Eject said hopefully.

Rumble shrugged. "For the frag in the woods, or the talk?"

"Both. Either. I don't know. You know, if we'd talked first I never would have fragged you in the woods like that?"

"If ya hadn't fragged me in the woods like that, we'd never have talked."

"Oh, I don't know." Eject grinned, and there was a new kind of cast to the expression. He was almost smirking. "I still think you're smoking hot. I have for a while, even when we were enemies."

Rumble canted his head. "Ya do?"

Eject nodded. "And that's what I didn't mean. I… I was so focused on scoring that I lost sight of the game strategy. And then, when we talked… I think our first time should have been different, you know?" He leaned forward, ran a finger down Rumble's arm carefully.

Rumble was confused. And that slagging cat was still laughing at him in his head.

*Shut it, Ravage.*

*Aw, Rumble, he likes you. See, I told you it would be fine.*

*I don't know what to do,* he admitted.

*Primus spare me the clueless little brothers,* Ravage sighed. *You could try, I don't know, kissing him? Seemed to work well enough for everyone else.*

Rumble blinked.

Eject was still looking at him, half hopeful, half fearful. His hand had moved to Rumble's knee.

*For Primus' sake, just go for it, Rumble,* Ravage said sternly. *I've had quite enough of watching you pine. We all have. And from what Blaster tells me… Eject hasn't been much better. He's spent all the time since they got here looking for you.*

Really? That meant… that Eject hadn't been with Frenzy.

The relief he felt was almost enough to make him giddy.

Rumble looked at the hand on his knee. He had distinct, pre-overcharge memories of what that hand could do, where it had been. He'd spent the last month fantasizing about it.

"Ya really mean it?" he asked timidly, while wondering what in the pit had happened to his usual tough manner. He was normally more aggressive than this.

"I really mean it," Eject answered earnestly.

For a moment they just stared at each other.

"So," Eject said. "Wanna try?"

"Yeah," Rumble said at last, putting his hand over the other's. "I wanna try."

* * *

"How was your recharge?" Megatron sat down next to him and passed him a cube – regular energon, by the color.

"Good," Bumblebee replied, accepting the cube gratefully. "Worked even better than I expected." He had spent the night curled up in one of Megatron's chairs. It had been built for his massive frame, so Bee had been able to lie down and snuggle up quite comfortably. He'd woken from recharge while Megatron was in the wash racks, and had decided to wait for the warlord by the large window.

"So does this place produce enough to support your entire army?" Bumblebee asked, looking up at Megatron curiously. The grey mech was looking out the window, watching the morning in the cavern. Not that much was happening, it seemed like most of the mechs were deep in recharge. Or engaged in other interesting activities.

"Yes, it should, once it gets up to capacity," Megatron replied. The warlord was still slightly damp from his wash, and Bumblebee could see that he hadn't quite managed to get into all the nooks and crannies. "It's not quite there yet. Scrapper wants to make sure that we're not overtaxing the volcano."

"Sounds smart enough," Bumblebee nodded. "It would kind of suck if this whole place blew. It really is awesome."

"Thank you." Megatron chuckled. "I do believe you've said that already."

"Well, a good thing can't be repeated too often," Bee grinned. "So does that mean you don't have to raid for energon anymore?"

"It does," Megatron confirmed. He chuckled darkly. "So now I'm left with an army of Decepticon soldiers with no outlet and no will to fight. High-strung, battle-ready, aggressive, energetic, and I have no idea what to do with them all."

"Huh. I see the problem." He fell silent for a moment, watching Blast Off walk over to where Blaster was sitting with Ravage by the pool. "It's tricky for you. We're mostly civilians at heart, it'll be easier to go back to that."

"My Decepticons are warriors," Megatron said bluntly. "Born and built. Warriors are not that useful in peacetime. Though there are a few exceptions."

"Yeah," Bee grinned, watching the exceptions in question extricate themselves from what could only be described as a cuddle-pile with Grapple in the center. "The Constructicons will be handy, I bet."

Megatron nodded. "And Soundwave and the cassettes. But the rest – Seekers, Combaticons, Stunticons, all of them – I don't know."

"What do they want to do, do you think? Pit, what do you want to do?" Bumblebee was curious, actually – given the choice, what would Megatron want? Now that conquest and victory seemed to be vanishing in favor of peace and stable resources?

"I was a miner and a gladiator, and then I was the leader of the Decepticons," he said, staring into the cube. "Not the kind of skill set that's needed to rebuild Cybertron."

"I'm not sure we're at the rebuilding Cybertron stage yet," Bumblebee mused.

"Oh? Where do you think we are, little scout?" Megatron grinned.

"Yeah, I know," Bumblebee giggled. "I'm not the strategist. I don't even make the long-term plans. But the way I see it, we've got a chance to really do something good here. I think you guys have been on the right track, shipping energon to Cybertron." Megatron nodded appreciatively at that. "But with all the fighting and stuff, we really never stood a chance of making an impact there. If we were to get the humans' permission to put up something like what you've done here in more locations… Who knows?"

"Who knows indeed," Megatron agreed pensively. Then he smirked at Bumblebee. "Not a planner. I call that slag."

Bumblebee laughed.

"So what were you doing, back at Cybertron?" Megatron asked as the laughter died down.

"I was too young to do anything back there," Bumblebee replied, still smiling a bit. "The Autobots took me in as a youngling and trained me from my first adult upgrade."

"Huh." Megatron eyed him over the rim of his cube. "Nothing else to go back to. Maybe you're not that different from a Decepticon like that." He grinned. "And I mean that in a good way."

That had Bumblebee laughing again. "I've heard that from Cliffjumper too, but so has everyone."

The grey mech eyed him with speculation. "If it makes a difference," Megatron said slowly, "I would be proud to have you."

Bumblebee sat up ramrod-straight and stared at him. "What?"

"Yes," Megatron replied. "You're resourceful, and clever, and brave. I could use a mech like that."

Bumblebee stared at him for another moment, and then he grinned. "And you thought you didn't have useful skills post-war. We'll need strong mechs to lead, Megatron. Or this whole thing will fall apart."

Megatron sighed. "I don't know if there's room for two strong leaders. Prime and I have butted heads more times than I care to count, even before this whole thing started, and that is not conducive to peace."

"Talk to him about it," Bumblebee suggested. "He's willing to talk, most of the time."

"So I've been given to understand," Megatron said dryly.

Bumblebee snorted, a sharp ex-vent that turned into a giggle. Megatron grinned.

"Seriously though, talk to him. Work this out. I think it's going to be worth it. And for what it's worth," he canted his head, looking up at the grey face above him, "I think that I'd be honored. To work under you. At least now that you've… mellowed out a bit."

"You think I'm mellow?" Megatron raised an optic ridge at him.

Bumblebee looked up at him, considering. "You haven't hit me or threatened to shoot me. And you're in a genuinely good mood. Yeah, I'd say you've mellowed out a bit."

"Well, as long as it's only a bit," Megatron said, draining the rest of the cube. "That may be possible to live with."

Bumblebee giggled at that. "Yeah, we can't spoil your reputation completely, can we? You're fierce, cruel, strong, powerful, brook-no-nonsense Mighty Megatron, leader of the Decepticons." He paused, looked out at the increasingly busy cavern. "It might be too late to save your reputation, you know. Since you've been spending so much time with me. I'm a fluffy nuisance of a minibot."

Megatron chuckled. "Fluffy? Really?"

"Cliffjumper again," Bumblebee grinned. "When you're jovial, mechs tend to forget that you're Spec Ops. Works really well for Jazz."

"I can imagine. Well," Megatron said, standing and walking closer to the glass. He would probably be visible from every part of the cavern like this. Bumblebee could see several mechs looking up, pointing him out to each other. "If they start spreading words about the mellow warlord and the fluffy minibot, I've got some things I could say about them as well. Besides, with Prime fragging my second and the rest of my Decepticons submitting to your friends in one way or the other, you talking to me is not really the most juicy thing going on. Also," Megatron's smile was truly evil, "many of them will just assume, since I brought you up here, that I'm fragging you through the berth." A look of concern flitted across his face. "I guess I should have thought about that."

"Don't worry for my honor, sir," Bumblebee grinned. "Maybe I'll come out of this less fluffy than I was coming in."

Megatron laughed. "Stranger things are happening."

* * *

Fireflight looked down at Thundercracker. The blue Seeker was deep in recharge, a peaceful expression on his faceplates. His arms were cradling Fireflight close, and the smaller Aerialbot was laying across his chest, chin on his hands.

He was quite content just lying there, memorizing the lines of the Seeker's face.

 _His_ Seeker.

He kind of liked the sound of that.

With a content smile on his face, he put his head down on the golden cockpit and let himself slip back into recharge.

* * *

 _A/N: sorry about that last teaser bit :) We might see more of those two in the next chapter._

 _I had so much fun messing with Rumble in this chapter. Poor guy. Also, I'm not sure why Ravage is female in this. She insisted to be. I also don't know why she's so cultured - her vocal patterns are clean, her manners are good, all that jazz. I guess it's because she's such a cat._

 _Anyway, hope you like!_


	8. I'll be waiting here, waiting for you

_A/N: thanks for reviewing, UnknownAlien!_

 _See the end for more notes._

* * *

 **Arc 2: My funny what now?**

* * *

Chapter 4: I'll be waiting here, waiting just for you

* * *

Prowl was observing. Jazz had finally given up on winning the argument over whether or not it was necessary for the Second-in-Command to be on duty here, and had taken Blaster up on his offer. Currently, the two of them were sitting on the opposite end of the pool with Ravage, Brawl and Onslaught, all enjoying whatever the bar was serving up and listening to the music emanating from Jazz's and Blaster's combined speakers.

Prowl didn't mind. Sociability wasn't really his strength, not like it was his mate's, and after the night they'd spent in the hot pool they could afford to let each other go for a while.

Not that the hot pool wasn't still tempting. Prowl had every intention of enticing his saboteur back into it later.

Duty first, though.

He watched as Soundwave emerged from one of the tunnel openings that led to the upper rooms. The cassette carrier nodded at Prowl as he walked past, heading for the bar. He stopped for a moment to acknowledge Ratbat playing in the pool before taking two cubes Dead End, who was manning the bar, and then headed back to where he came from. Prowl gave him a polite nod in return as he passed him.

Well, at least he was keeping Ratchet fueled. Though Prowl had to admit that of all the Decepticons here, Soundwave was one of those he was least worried about.

There were others who were far more unpredictable. And they were spread out all over the base. The most important one he hadn't seen at all, though he knew Optimus had found him. So that was where he would begin.

He pinged Prime on a non-priority channel. Important as he thought it was to monitor the situation, he didn't want to break into anyone's fun. Prime would reply if he was available.

It didn't take long.

 _*Prowl, my friend. I hope you're enjoying our little holiday?*_

 _*I am, Prime,*_ he replied. _*Though not, I suspect, as much as you.*_

 _*You may be right,*_ the Prime said with a smile in his voice. _*Starscream is… This is more than I ever looked for, Prowl, more than I ever thought I would find.*_

 _*You are happy.*_ It wasn't a question.

 _*I am overjoyed. As unexpected as this was, it feels very… It feels right, my friend.*_

Prowl looked over at where Jazz was sitting. His mate was laughing at something Blaster said, clean black and white plating catching the light. _*I may not completely understand your choice, Prime, but I do understand the sentiment.*_

 _*I expect you do. Don't spend all your time being my Second, Prowl. Take the time to enjoy yourself. We are safe here.*_

Prowl suspected that was true. Still, he'd rather err on the side of caution. _*Yes, sir. Prowl out.*_

He looked up next, at the giant window that should have dominated the room but instead seemed just another fixture. Megatron wasn't visible, but he imagined he could see a smallish yellow shape.

 _*Bumblebee.*_

 _*Prowl, sir?*_

 _*I hope I'm not disturbing. I need a status report on the Autobots, and you've got the best vantage point.*_

 _*It's no problem, sir,*_ the friendly minibot replied. _*Megatron is getting us more energon right now, so I'm free.*_

 _*He's treating you alright?*_

 _*We're just talking, sir,*_ Bumblebee said, and Prowl knew he would be smiling. _*We both have questions. You want me to tell you who I've got eyes on from here?*_

 _*Please. And their status.*_

 _*Sure thing,*_ the scout said, and started rattling of names.

It was much as Prowl had suspected. There was a gaggle of minibots with Ramjet now, and Thrust had joined them. Grapple and Hoist were still surrounded by Constructicons. All but one – the last one was in the next room, with two other Autobots.

 _*Wait a minute_ ,* he interrupted, frowning. _*Are you saying that Hook is debauching_ both _of Ratchet's apprentices?*_

 _*Debauching?*_ Bumblebee giggled. _*I think you need to talk to Jazz, sir, catch up on the gossip going amont the troops. Neither Swoop nor First Aid are exactly untouched anymore. Besides, they're not interfacing. They're just talking. As far as I can tell, Hook is teaching them about Seeker frames. He had a hologram going earlier.*_

Well, that's something, at least. Though he was unamused at the news that the youngest of their members were already being treated as adults in all respects.

 _*Sides and Smokey are still with Astrotrain and Blitzwing, they've been there all night_ ,* Bumblebee continued. _*Sunstreaker and Bluestreak are in another room by themselves.*_

 _*No Decepticons?*_ Prowl was a little surprised at that. He'd have expected the 'Cons to take advantage of the loosened relations this gathering had led to, especially with Sideswipe and Smokescreen providing such an avid example of the fun that could be had even with mechs that were already a couple. He couldn't quite suppress the momentary relief, though. He would have preferred to keep Bluestreak away from the whole ordeal if it had been up to him, but – as Jazz had said – it was time to let his surrogate creation grow up.

 _*Sunstreaker doesn't share, sir,*_ Bumblebee chuckled. _*Especially not Bluestreak. Also, Ratchet's with Soundwave, Fireflight's with Thundercracker, the rest of the Protectobots are with Vortex and some of the Stunticons, Blaster's got some cassettes recharging on the ground floor, and I don't know exactly who's hanging out with Grimlock but it looks like they're having fun. Oh, wait, it's Motormaster. Huh, that's unexpected.*_

Prowl tried not to wince. He really was getting much more information than he wanted. _*Thank you, Bumblebee. I think that's quite enough.*_

 _*Sorry, sir,*_ the scout replied cheerfully. _*At least you don't have to watch them.*_

 _*Yes. Thank Primus for small favors. Prowl out.*_

Prowl cut the connection, grateful both that the small scout was so observant and that he didn't have to listen to him anymore. He opened a new channel with trepidation.

 _*Wheeljack?*_

 _*Prowl! Hey, did you know that Scrapper's managed to refine my converters so they work double? They're working off the lava heat as well as the cold water outside, drawing energy from the temperature contrasts! It's brilliant! Skyfire says that it should be possible to adapt them to use in space, in places like the Earth's moon that always have one cold side, and – oh, wait a minute.*_

The comm silenced, and Prowl was left staring and blinking in the wake of the barrage. Wheeljack had apparently not kept completely away from the high-grade, and he was so excited by the technology around him that he was channeling his inner Bluestreak. Luckily, Prowl was used to run-on sentences by now.

 _*- sorry, I just had to check that out, it's really remarkable what they've pulled off here. Anyway, Prowl, what can I do for you?*_

 _*I am trying to keep tabs on everyone,*_ Prowl replied. _*Who's there with you?*_

 _*Oh, it's just me and 'Fire,*_ Wheeljack replied. _*We got the green light for exploring. I think Percy's in the next lab over or something.*_

 _*Thank you.*_ He hesitated, then added _*Please don't blow this place up.*_

 _*Oh ye of little faith,*_ Wheeljack teased. _*Loosen up and enjoy yourself, Prowl. I know I am. Wheeljack out.*_

Prowl frowned slightly. He _was_ enjoying himself, doing this. He enjoyed keeping track of the Autobots, making sure they were safe. He and Red Alert weren't completely dissimilar in that aspect. He wouldn't be making these calls if he didn't enjoy it.

Well. Most of it, anyway. He could have done with somewhat fewer dirty images in his mind.

Maybe he should leave it there, though. Things seemed to be going according to what everyone wished, and no one had broken the truce yet.

He turned, intending to perhaps join his mate, when a voice stopped him.

"Wanna splash?"

"Sorry, sir, he got away from me," Hound grinned. He bent down to tickle the small cassette. "C'mon, Ratbat, Prowl really doesn't splash much."

"Aw," Ratbat pouted. "Why not?"

"Well, because," Hound began, then frowned.

Because what could he say? Prowl could see the conflict on the scout's face. He didn't want to offend his commander, so saying that Prowl didn't know how to play or was unable to have fun or one of the other lines of reasoning that Prowl knew often made its rounds among the Autobots wouldn't work.

Prowl didn't know what to say either. But the pouting cassette was close to irresistible and required an answer.

"Because he's like me," a new voice purred, letting both Autobots off the hook. "He's not overly fond of it. Hello, commander."

Prowl looked down at the dark feline walking gracefully along the top of the wall. "Hello, Ravage."

The cat stood and stretched. "Commander, I have a proposition for you."

He arched an eyebrow at her, conscious of Hound bringing the younger cassette across the pool and closer to Jazz and Blaster.

"I wonder if you would be interested in seeing the tactical library. Soundwave's amassed a large collection of high-quality files both from both Cybertron and Earth, and he has granted you access to the database."

Well, that was the kind of proposition he enjoyed. He nodded at the cassette. "That would be enjoyable. Lead on, please."

* * *

Perceptor cradled his cube carefully as he hurried along the hallway. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but he was also quite certain that he would rather consume his ration away from the volatile chemicals that made up the Constructicons' lab. He had spotted at least three different acids that were improperly contained, and there didn't seem to be any form of safety measures installed. Wheeljack, of course, lacked the common sense of a drone, and Skyfire was not much better at this point, being far too excited by what the Decepticons had accomplished. Perceptor was fascinated and impressed too, but he retained his sense of self-preservation. Hence the escape through the closest hallway.

Only, now he wasn't sure where he was.

There were doors along one side of the hallway, but they were all locked. So far, the only open door had been the one he'd walked out of. He could only assume that he would reach the end of the hallway at some point and could find his way out from there.

At least, that was his goal until he rounded the next corner and came face to face with one of the largest mechs he had ever encountered.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, taking a step backwards. "Pardon me." He turned around and aimed to hurry away – there must be an opening in the other end of the hallway, mustn't there – but he never got very far.

"Hey," a deep voice said, and a large hand landed on his shoulder. Perceptor squeaked.

"Hey, don't worry," the voice said, as the hand gently turned him back around. "You're Perceptor, right? I'm Blast Off."

Perceptor looked up, but all he could take in was a mass of rusty orange and the purple Decepticon symbol on the other's chest. The name was familiar, though – this was the shuttle that had brought him here the day before.

"Y-yes," he replied, his vocalizer producing a higher pitch than normal. "I'm Perceptor."

The other leaned back slightly and looked at him. "You're scared of me," he rumbled after a moment. "I can understand that, but you don't have to be scared here. No one's going to hurt you."

Perceptor couldn't quite find it within himself to believe that, no matter that Jazz – and Wheeljack, and Groove, and even Sunstreaker – had told him. They were in the depth of a Decepticon stronghold the likes of which the Autobots had never seen. There had to be a catch of some kind.

"Did you get lost?" the Decepticon asked.

"N-no!" Perceptor protested. It would not do to appear weaker than he was. "I am simply a tad – directionally disoriented."

"Oh," the other replied, looking at him with confusion. "Well, in that case." He turned in the direction Perceptor had been walking. "I was just about to get some energon. Would you want to accompany me?"

Perceptor considered quickly. They were, technically, under a truce, and the Decepticons hadn't broken it yet. Blast Off didn't seem to be armed.

Then again, he was the Combaticon shuttle. He didn't need to be armed to be dangerous.

"I already have a cube, thank you," he hedged.

"Yes, so I see," the other mech replied. "Still, I would appreciate your company. And your opinion."

"My opinion?" Perceptor echoed. He was intrigued, despite himself. "On what?"

"On whether or not this idea of Scrapper's is viable," Blast Off replied. "He has this notion that we can harvest enough energon to revive Cybertron using the temperature dynamics of the inner planets of this solar system. I'm not sure the solar energy in space can be refined using the resources we have available."

Perceptor just stared at him. That echoed a level of education and knowledge he had thought the shuttle incapable of. "Are you a scientist?"

Blast Off chuckled. "No, that I am not. But I've had an earful of several, flitting around the inner planets with Scrapper and Starscream and Mixmaster aboard. Their plans range from careful to grandiose, and I don't know what to believe." He looked down at Perceptor. "You're a scientist, though. Will you tell me what you think?"

"I – I suppose. Skyfire's really the expert in that field, though."

"Maybe if we find him, he can join the discussion," Blast Off suggested. "I think the mad 'Con scientists are all busy with someone else at the moment, so it's probably one of the best chances we'll get."

Perceptor found himself chuckling, his nerves easing somewhat. "You may be correct. All right then, please lead the way."

Blast Off nodded, and turned to make room for Perceptor falling in next to him. "You really were lost, weren't you?"

Perceptor chose not to answer that. Instead he walked next to the larger mech, mindful to keep a certain distance between them. Blast Off seemed content to walk in contemplative silence, but Perceptor's curiosity soon got the better of him.

"Are they actually seeking to increase the production of energon by utilizing the extreme temperature differences between the dark and bright sides of the celestial satellites?" he asked, wonder and clear interest in his voice.

Blast Off glanced down at him. "So I gather. This system apparently has many boons we could harvest."

"It seems so, and possibly even without interfering with the indigenous popu – oh!"

"Evening," the other massive mech said, looking down at Perceptor from the doorway he'd just walked out of. Perceptor nodded once, quickly, pressing himself against the wall.

"Evening, Ons," Blast Off said easily. "Forgot something?"

The other held up his hand, showing the shuttleformer a small datachip. "Lost a bet."

"I told you that gambling with Smokescreen and Swindle was a bad idea," Blast Off said, and Perceptor thought he sounded almost gloating.

The new mech – Onslaught, Perceptor assumed – grunted and walked past them. Perceptor didn't move until he'd turned the corner behind them and was out of sight.

Blast Off was staring at him, he realized.

"You don't have to be scared here," the shuttleformer said quietly. "We're keeping to the truce."

"Oh, I- I know that," Perceptor said, nodding and walking on in the direction he had been going.

"Then why are you afraid?" Blast Off asked. "I could feel it when we flew here, too. I know the others were trying to calm you down, not that it helped much."

Perceptor didn't quite know what to say. It was silly, he knew that, they'd all told him. But he couldn't help feeling… apprehensive.

"What can we do to put you at ease?" Blast Off asked.

"I do apologize," Perceptor said. He was hoping the other mech would let the whole thing go. Then he could leave him behind as soon as they got to the main room, and find someone he trusted to stick to for the remainder of their stay.

Like Ironhide. Or Prowl. Or Defensor.

Yes, Defensor would be good.

"I'm not – that is," he continued, not entirely certain what he should say. And if he actually was apologizing to a Decepticon for being scared of him. The idea in its entirety was ludicrous, after all.

"Oh, wait," Blast Off said suddenly, and Perceptor got the impression that the shuttleformer was grinning under his mask. "I know. Come on."

Perceptor followed as Blast Off veered in another direction, walking briskly while still making sure that the smaller microscope could follow. They walked down the hall until they arrived at a door that looked just like all the others. Blast Off palmed the door lock and the door slid aside for them.

Inside was glass.

Perceptor looked inside curiously. His first impression was right – there was glass everywhere. On every surface. And in the center of the room, the three-in-one components of Reflector were building something.

"Reflector," Blast Off said. "Mind explaining to Perceptor here what you're up to?"

"Oh!" the middle component said, raising his head. "I'm attempting to concentrate the sunlight."

"Yeah, into solid form," the left one continued, "using the lenses and mirrors."

"I figured we can use it as a fuel source," the last component said. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on it."

Perceptor inched closer, fascinated. "You are trying to condense the solar energy into a usable energy source using reflection?"

"Don't know if it'll work yet," the middle one said. "I'm mostly doing it for fun. And because Skywarp told me that he would warp me to a cave on an island just outside Antarctica and leave me there if I watched what everyone was doing these three days." He gestured at the apparatus in front of him. "I've got these nanofilters set up, and the gravity actuators, and the inertia wells I liberated from Starscream's lab. I want to make the sunlight heavy first." He winked at Perceptor. "Like the Discworld."

Perceptor didn't understand the reference. He had a feeling that Jazz or Bumblebee would have.

"Do you have the inertia wells calibrated to the photon level specific for this longitude?" he asked, bending over the set-up that he somehow had gotten all the way up close to. His helm was nearly brushing one of the Reflector components' helm. "Will the nanofilters function down here?"

"Better than outside actually," Reflector replied. "The extra pressure of being below sea level helps."

"That is fascinating," Perceptor mused, focusing down at the minute details in the actuator lens arrays. "What if you were to use crystals instead of mirrors as the focal points for the filters?"

"That might work better, yeah," Reflector said eagerly. "Come on, help me here."

"I'm going to leave you two to it," Blast Off said, walking back out and closing the door. The mechs inside didn't notice.

* * *

"Thank you," Ratchet said, accepting the cube Soundwave handed him.

The navy mech nodded. "Ratchet: recharge well?"

"I did," Ratchet replied, and he was still surprised about that. Who would have thought he would get the longest recharge he'd had all month in the middle of a Decepticon stronghold? And in the company of Soundwave, of all mechs?

"Good," the navy mech said, his mask sliding aside to reveal a small smile. "Recharge: important."

"So they keep telling me," Ratchet replied dryly, sipping at his cube. "Optimus and Wheeljack will probably want to know your secret."

Soundwave canted his head. "Query: secret?"

"Of how you got me to recharge."

Soundwave smiled that small smile again. Primus, the mech really was gorgeous. "Prime: derelict in duty. Must make sure Ratchet relaxes. Then Ratchet recharges."

Ratchet chuckled. "That simple, huh?"

"Affirmative. That simple."

Ratchet couldn't help but smile back this time. He finished the rest of his cube in silence, sneaking stolen looks at the Decepticon third in command.

"Query," Soundwave said at last, dispersing his empty cube. "Ratchet: not relaxed at Ark?"

He shrugged. "There's always so much to do. Someone always slags themselves up, someone always needs something, we're always short of some critical tool or fluid or part or other. Wheeljack always blows himself up." He snorted. "No, I don't relax much, Soundwave. Your boss sees to that."

A dark blue hand reached for his. Ratchet eyed it warily as it encircled his red fingers. "Soundwave regrets."

Great. Now he felt uncomfortable. "Ratchet regrets, too," he admitted. "I'm a medic, Soundwave. I was never supposed to kill. Do you have any idea what I've had to do to my coding to just get to a point where I can tolerate carrying weapons? It's core coding, Soundwave. I'm messing with my own core coding. And one of these days it still won't be enough, and Sunstreaker or Cliffjumper or Ironhide or any of the other slaggers that I fix up on a daily basis will come back in in too many pieces for me to put back together and their spark will gutter in my hands. So far I've been lucky and managed to revive them, but my luck will run out at some point." He leaned forward, put his head in his hands. The one Soundwave had been holding was tingling. "After most battles I end up over-imbibing, and whoever's still standing will have to carry me to my berth, and if I'm lucky I get to forget about it for a night. Feel alive for a night. More often I end up purging for a day or so in the dark. And then I go back out and do it all over again."

He didn't look up as Soundwave placed his hands on either side of Ratchet's, cradling his face. The Decepticon's hands were warm, the pressure gentle.

"Ratchet: not at fault," he said softly.

"Yeah, well, I'm not free of blame either. None of us are."

"Statement: accurate," Soundwave said. He tugged at Ratchet's hands until the medic lifted his head back up and looked at him.

With a soft click, Soundwave retracted his visor. His optics were golden. "Soundwave: regrets," he repeated. "Regrets hurting Ratchet most of all. Soundwave hopes, though. Peace: possible, Megatron: amenable. Prime: courting Starscream. Seeker elite: courting Aerialbots."

"Yeah, everyone's gone crazy," Ratchet agreed. "I'll take the madness, though, if we get peace from it."

"Affirmative." The navy mech looked down for a moment, nibbling at his lower lip. It was more than a little adorable. "Soundwave… hopes for something else also."

"Oh?" Ratchet canted his head. Somehow his hands had twisted until red fingers and blue were intertwined, and Ratchet didn't notice until Soundwave gently pulled away.

"Query," Soundwave began, then hesitated. Then he gave a small chuckle and shook his head. "Soundwave did practice this. Practice: insufficient." He reached into subspace, pulled out a box with ribbons on it. "For Ratchet."

Ratchet looked at the box in his hands with wide optics. "Soundwave, this is…"

"Affirmative." Soundwave nodded, looked away, looked back. Bit his lip. "Ratchet of Iacon," he said slowly, looking at Ratchet. "Soundwave of Kaon requests permission to court."

Ratchet just stared at him. He stared for long enough that Soundwave looked away, biting his lip again.

"Soundwave: understands if Ratchet rejects," he said, and the words didn't seem to match the dejected look on his face. "Ratchet: not obligated to say yes. Soundwave: part of package deal. Also, Decepticon."

Ratchet looked from the gold optics, looking away from him now, to the box in his hand, and back.

This was insane.

Completely and utterly processor-meltingly mad.

And yet it was the first thing in a good long while that made sense.

So he tugged at the ribbon, untied the bow. Soundwave's optics glinted and darted back to Ratchet's face. He looked… hopeful.

"Soundwave of Kaon, I accept your offer of courtship," Ratchet said, his voice less steady than he'd liked.

Now it was Soundwave's turn to stare. And then a smile blossomed on that beautiful face, a smile that made Ratchet's spark do strange things that he was pretty sure would show up on a diagnostic. "Truly?"

"Truly," Ratchet confirmed, and now he grinned. "Package deal, Decepticon and all."

Soundwave ex-vented heavily, still smiling. Trembling fingers pushed the lid off the box, picking up one of the energon goodies Ratchet had known would be inside. He lifted his hand towards Ratchet's mouth, again with that hopeful look on his face.

Ratchet smiled and let Soundwave place the piece of candy in his mouth. He closed his mouth plates against Soundwave's fingers, dark metal meeting pale grey.

Soundwave's vents hitched.

"Soundwave," he began quietly, looking at where his fingers were laying against Ratchet's face. "Soundwave will ask Megatron for peace treaty. Will court Ratchet properly. Soundwave: grateful for the chance." His hand moved aside, cupped Ratchet's cheek.

"The peace might be up to others than us," Ratchet replied, tilting his hand to push into the touch. "But I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of it."

Soundwave nodded. He was still smiling. Ratchet could feel his hand trembling. Those golden optics met his again.

"Really truly?" he asked, optics bright.

Ratchet leaned back and laughed. "Really truly, Soundwave," he chortled. He picked up a candy piece and lifted it to Soundwave's mouth plates, thumbs stroking the soft metal dermis as the mech opened his mouth. "Nothing would make me happier."

* * *

Jazz watched as Skyfire transformed on the small runway, the first group of travelers boarding. It was a motley crew this time, not organized at all. Sunstreaker and Bluestreak were boarding with Swindle and Onslaught, Hook, First Aid and Swoop behind them. In the air above the volcano, he could see a dark Seeker and a silver jet spiraling around each other.

Nobody was afraid this time.

He watched as Cliffjumper walked out of the volcano with Ramjet and Thrust. There was some definite groping of aft, both the Seeker and the minibot variety, before the two Decepticons transformed and took to the sky. Cliffjumper smirked, snagged a passing Stunticon and dragged him into Skyfire's hold. Brawn and Huffer followed, both of them laughing. Skyfire powered up and took off as Astrotrain and Blitzwing walked out with Sideswipe and Smokescreen. The largest triple-changer looked decidedly unsteady on his feet, and he followed Sideswipe around like a puppy on a leash.

Jazz grinned. There was all manner of potential here. He would have to talk to Soundwave, see if his little avian spies had anything worth bartering for.

"Now that smile bodes ill for somebot, I just know it."

"Nah, m'mech," Jazz grinned, turning slightly to look at Ratchet. "Ah'm just jazzed about all these new friends mechs are makin'. Includin' yaself, Ratch."

The medic stared at him. "How do you – never mind. You always know."

"Yep, Ah do," Jazz replied. "And congratulations. Soundwave is a good mech."

"The very best," Ratchet said softly, so softly that Jazz doubted he was meant to hear. So he pretended he hadn't.

"So where didya hide him, anyway?"

Ratchet chuckled. "Oh, he's with Blaster. They're trying to track down Rumble and Eject. Apparently, someone had such a good time that they don't want to leave."

Jazz had to laugh at that. "Ah take it we can expect an increase in cassette visits, then. Red'll be pleased."

"From what I heard, I think they were planning to set up some sort of visiting schedule," Ratchet smirked. "Taking turns to visit the other."

"Primus," Jazz chuckled, shaking his head. "That's what – the fifth serious entanglement to come outta this?"

"That we know of," Ratchet confirmed. "Prime and Screamer, Skywarp and 'Bolt, Thundercracker and Fireflight and Soundwave and myself. And now Rumble and Eject."

"The whole unbonded command staff of both factions, pairing up like there's no tomorrow," Jazz mused. "Ah don't think even Smokey'd have bet on that."

"Not like there's no tomorrow, Jazz," Ratchet disagreed, shaking his head slightly. "For the first time in a long time, I actually feel like there's a tomorrow worth speaking of. Thanks, you."

"Thanks, me?" Jazz repeated.

Ratchet smirked. "Don't think I don't know that most of this began with you two months ago. I figure I should give credit where credit's due."

Jazz just winked. He didn't really feel that he had anything to do with this, it was all Prowl, but Prowl would be supremely uncomfortable if mecha started walking up to him and thanking him for them finding their significant other or for ending the war. Better it be Jazz.

Ratchet watched as Astrotrain transformed with a groan, landing on protesting struts and trembling wheels. "I think I know who my ride is. That one needs a medic onboard."

"Affirmative," a melodious monotone said from behind them. Jazz would probably never understand how Soundwave managed to be both those things at once, but he would happily badger the mech until he figured it out. "Astrotrain: got heavily overcharged. Also: intense interfacing led to lack of recharge."

"And I'm not apologizing!" Sideswipe called in a sing-song tone, letting one hand run along Astrotrain's exterior plating.

"You will if we crash, you glitch!" Ratchet called back, but there was humor in his tone.

"Astrotrain: safe for flight," Soundwave said. "Even intoxicated. Crash: unlikely."

"Oh, I know." Ratchet grinned. "Besides, if there's any sign of trouble you'll just get me out of there, won't you?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said softly, lifting a hand to run a finger down Ratchet's arm.

Jazz, from behind the safety of his visor, followed the move of that finger with scrutiny. He noticed how Ratchet responded, the look in the medic's eyes, the slight pressure into the touch.

Oh yeah, these two would do all right.

The sound of thrusters had him turn back to the volcano, looking up the mountain. Starscream was hovering in front of Optimus up there. This was the first Jazz had seen of his leader in three days, and he was glad he was watching from a distance, because he was pretty slagging sure he didn't want to know what they were saying. It was enough to see what they were doing.

"Optimus is acting like a lovestruck youngling," Ratchet remarked.

"Affection: genuine," Soundwave said. "Starscream: smitten."

Jazz laughed. "Prime smitten too, mah mech."

"This is good for the peace effort," Ratchet added. "Well, as long as Optimus keeps his wits about him. I know Megatron will keep a level head, and it won't do for the Prime to negotiate with his spark instead of his processor."

"That's why ya got Prowler," Jazz said. "He's levelheaded enough for the both of them." He shot Ratchet a look. "Ya seem pretty certain that there will be negotiations, Ratch."

"And you're not?" Ratchet shot back. "Look."

Jazz turned to see the Slagmaker himself walk out of the volcano, Bumblebee next to him. The yellow minibot had to take two strides for Megatron's one, but it didn't seem to bother any of them. In fact, Megatron was laughing.

Not the cruel, vindictive sound Jazz had heard on many a battlefield, not the mocking chuckle of the command center when any of his subordinates – Starscream, most likely – had failed. This was a true laugh, mirthful and happy, and more likely to have come from Optimus than Megatron. Yet there they were. Bumblebee grinning and mock-punching the warlord's leg, Megatron's hand on Bumblebee's shoulder.

Behind them, Thundercracker and Fireflight came out of the elevator. Fireflight was glued to the other's side, blue arms cradling the red and white plating, the Seeker nuzzling against the younger jet's cheek. They were both smiling, paying no heed at all to their surroundings, even though Air Raid and Slingshot were both cat-calling them. When they took off, Megatron looked up at the sound of the thrusters and just shook his head with a small grin.

Jazz rebooted his optical sensors.

"…okay. Ah'll concede it. And prepare Prowl to prep a treaty draft." He smiled, and he knew the wonder was clear on his face. "It looks like the war is over, folks."

"Affirmative," Soundwave said. "Finally."

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Bumblebee woke up in the middle of the night to the incessant beeping of his comm.

 _*Yeah?*_

 _*Did I wake you, little scout?*_

Bumblebee sat up, confused. _*Megatron? You did, sir, but it's okay.*_

 _*I apologize.*_

Bumblebee grinned. If someone had told him three months ago that Megatron would comm him in the middle of the night and then apologize for waking him up, he would have sent them to Ratchet for a checkup. Things sure had changed.

 _*As I said, it's okay. What do you need, sir?*_

 _*I… Some reassurance.*_ Megatron paused. _*I'm sending a peace proposal to Prime tomorrow.*_

Bumblebee blinked, and then realized what the warlord was saying. _*You're nervous.*_

 _*Very. Isn't that strange? I haven't been nervous about anything since I was a youngling facing my first gladiatorial match. And now I find I can't recharge, I can't get my processor to stop running the same scenarios over and over.*_

 _*It sounds familiar, sir,*_ Bumblebee replied. _*In my experience, it helps to talk about it.*_

 _*Yes. That's why I'm calling. There are none on my side who I can confide in.*_

That was some of the problem, Bumblebee knew. Megatron had built such a pedestal for himself in order for the Decepticons to respect and follow him that there were none among them who he could trust. Especially since he'd also done his best to foster poor relations both among the crew and between them and himself. It took some time to change a leadership that had been built on violence, and even longer for the Decepticons to stop fearing him.

* _I know,*_ he replied. _*What worries you most?*_

 _*I don't know if I can pinpoint it_ ,* the warlord admitted. _*These last couple of months have been so strange, and now I don't know what to do. The proposal is very rough, I don't even know what to put into it.*_

* _Want me to look it over?*_

* _Please.*_ The warlord chuckled. _*I am usually good with words, I swear. But this… I don't want to fail with this.*_

* _Send me the draft_ ,* Bumblebee said, smiling. * _You know I'll help_.*

* _Yes, I know. You're a good friend, little scout.*_

* _Call me Bumblebee, sir.*_

* _Then stop calling me sir. At least in private_.*

* _Okay, Megatron.*_

Bee sat down at his console, powering it up as he waited for Megatron to send him the draft.

* _Hey, Bumblebee.*_

* _Yes?*_

* _Thank you.*_

Oh yes, things had definitely changed.

* * *

 _A/N: this is the last chapter in this arc. I haven't decided yet if I'm writing more - I toyed with something for Earth day, but as it is I have no more ideas for this fic and it's no point pushing out chapters that have no real merit. So I'm marking this as complete - for now. Thanks for reading!_


	9. This place could be much brighter than

A/N: Welcome to the third an possibly final arc of Occasions! I meant to have this done for Easter, and then I meant it to be done for spring. Which it still is, right? Technically?

Well, hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Arc 3: Springing fresh from the world**

* * *

Chapter 1: This place could be much brighter than tomorrow

* * *

This time, Megatron didn't make elaborate arrangements. He simply commed ahead, and let the Prime know – by way of Bumblebee – that he would be there in a little while.

Prowl couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that such a prospect had ceased to make him nervous.

Prime took it all in stride, simply asking Blaster to let the front guards know that the warlord was coming and to just let him in when he arrived. Blaster merely nodded and relayed the message. Trailbreaker and Brawn, on the _Ark_ entrance, both answered with a simple and unafraid 'Yes sir'.

Prowl could distinctly remember a time when this whole scenario would have made him crash. It wasn't all that long ago, either. It just seemed longer.

Red Alert, of course, was still wary. But even he had stopped demanding Megatron be escorted everywhere in stasis cuffs with Ironhide's cannons trained on him. He still grumbled, and muttered under his breath, but Inferno was doing a marvelous job of distracting him.

Prowl had made sure that the two were always on shift together. It seemed to help.

"Do you know what he wants, Bumblebee?" Optimus asked.

The yellow scout shrugged. "He didn't say, Prime. But I suspect it has something to do with the peace proposal, he's been fretting a lot over that lately."

Prowl reveled in his crash-free state.

"I can't remember seeing anything problematic in the last draft he sent over," Prime mused. "Prowl, did you notice anything?"

"It's probably nothing," Ironhide said, a small smirk on his face. "Megs fusses worse over that proposal than a creator does over a new sparkling."

"He just wants to get it right," Bumblebee said defensively. "We've gotten so much wrong already."

"I didn't notice anything strange," Prowl replied. "But he has a different perspective. His last few amendments have been sound."

Bumblebee flashed him a grateful smile.

"He's here," Blaster reported. "Coming inside now."

Prowl walked over to stand behind the communications officer, watching the screens to follow Megatron's progress.

"Soundwave is with him," Blaster commented.

"Let Ratchet know his Intended is here," Optimus said, grinning behind his facemask.

"First Aid says Ratchet is busy rewiring the sensor circuitry in Bluestreak's doorwings," Blaster reported a minute later. "He'll be busy for the rest of the day, most likely, and First Aid doesn't want to disturb him right now."

Prowl winced internally. Bluestreak, Smokescreen and the twins had taken advantage of the armistice to go racing on a track that had turned out to be inefficient for Cybertronians, and Bluestreak wasn't the only one who'd come out with injuries. But he'd been the worst off. The doorwings had had to removed for repairs, and Bluestreak was currently leaning more heavily on Sunstreaker than usual to make up for his lack of equilibrium.

"Are they heading for command?" Optimus asked. As Blaster confirmed, Prowl took a step back to evaluate.

Aside from himself, Optimus, Blaster and Ironhide, there weren't that many Autobots present. Steeljaw was recharging lightly under Blaster's station, Rewind was manning the security desk, and Cliffjumper was seated at the secondary monitor station. Though Cliffjumper was normally one who needed careful watching, he had mellowed slightly since their stay in the Decepticon volcanic base, and there was now a 64.9% chance that he would behave. Prowl refused to divert processing power to examine the reason for his mellowing. Some things it was best to not know too much about.

It wasn't long before Megatron entered the command center. He had the same presence about him as always, and not for the first time Prowl wondered what had possessed Bumblebee to approach him during the first truce. The Decepticon leader was dangerous, even now that they were working on a real peace treaty.

"Megatron," Prime greeted. "Soundwave."

"Prime," Megatron replied. "We need a breem of your time. Prowl's, too."

Prowl calculated that there was a 83.2% chance that at some point, complications were going to arise from the fact that the Decepticons and Autobots were no longer using the same time measurements. Fortunately, there was only a 16.4% chance that said complications would be serious.

"Certainly," Optimus replied. "Ironhide, you have command."

There was a time when Ironhide would have shadowed Optimus everywhere, most especially when there were Decepticons around. Now, the red mech just nodded, walking up to stand where Prime had stood before.

Prowl followed Soundwave as Optimus led them all into the adjoining meeting room. "Please take a seat. How can we help you?"

Megatron sat down in the slightly too small seat, frowning. The Autobots in general were smaller than the Decepticons, and the seating arrangements were a demonstration of the fact. Soundwave's chair fit him even worse.

"We're abandoning the _Nemesis_ ," Megatron said, once they'd all sat down in various degrees of comfort. "It was never built to be permanent, and keeping it whole and operational is costing us more than it's worth at this point."

That wasn't surprising. Prowl had read every report Spec Ops had handed in about the state of the _Nemesis_ , and the base was slowly deteriorating. Its location was hardly ideal for general maintenance.

"I see," Prime replied. "Are you moving to the volcanic base?"

"The _Neo_ , yes," Megatron said, a small smirk on his face. "Most of my Decepticons have already relocated."

"Apt name," Prime murmured, and Prowl knew his leader was grinning under the battle mask.

"I thought so, too."

Prowl silently took an image capture of the two leaders smirking at each other and sent it to Jazz.

"It is a sound decision," he said then, as neither leader seemed to be continuing the conversation. "Do you require assistance with the move?"

"Not the move, no," Megatron replied. "Soundwave?"

The carrier nodded, and pulled out one of his connector cables. "Permission to demonstrate?"

"Go ahead," Prime nodded, and Prowl watched carefully as Soundwave connected himself to the holographic table. The thing was Grapple's pride and joy, letting him and Hoist demonstrate whichever project they were working on as holographic models, but it wasn't connected to the main computer terminals. Soundwave couldn't hack them through it – though Prowl suspected that he wouldn't have tried to do so even had the table been connected.

A model of the _Nemesis_ appeared on the table. "Move: almost complete," Soundwave intoned. "Terminals. Equipment. Personal items. Next: salvage."

The model turned, showing parts of the ship that Prowl knew to be submerged in water.

"Engines: unreachable when base inhabited. Storage, hangar bays also."

"We've also decided to dismantle the whole thing," Megatron interjected. "Many of the materials may be reusable. Also, I've been told recently that we should take better care of this planet, and leaving an entire base to rust at the bottom of the ocean does not constitute good care."

Prowl suppressed a smile – not that Megatron would notice if he smiled or not. If he were a betting mech, he would bet that Bumblebee was the source of that little tidbit. The minibot certainly had a better connection with the warlord than anyone could have expected in advance.

"So we came to ask you for the loan of some of your Autobots," Megatron said finally. "To help taking the base down. The Constructicons are already working on it, but the Seekers are useless for this, and the Combaticons… Vortex and Blast Off are already doing the heavy hauling, but I can't trust Swindle and Brawl to work unsupervised, and Onslaught is being an arrogant bastard. The Stunticons have done some work, but they require an equal number of mechs for supervision, and it's just not feasible. I'd rather have those two gestalts at the _Neo_ , where they can do less harm, and where the triple-changers and the Coneheads can mind them."

"You need mechpower," Prime nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem. Prowl?"

"Certainly." He was already accessing the duty rosters, marking who was available and who wasn't, rearranging shifts where necessary. "Grapple. Hoist. Brawn and Windcharger. Hound and Beachcomber – they will be able to tell what needs to come down for the sake of the ocean life and what can stay. Bumblebee, since I imagine he knows your base well." He didn't miss the pleased look that graced the Decepticon leader's face plates for a moment. "Seaspray, since he's aquatic. And Blades, to help haul. I'd give you the twins if I could, but they're both on medical leave."

"Query: _Ark_ crew sufficient without these mechs?" Soundwave asked.

Prowl nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem. We run fewer patrols now that there is a ceasefire. It's tight, but it will do."

"I can spot you some of mine, if that helps," Megatron said, turning to Prowl now. "Reflector and Starscream's trine, for instance."

"That would be helpful," Prowl replied, still focused on the roster. "Reflector can be paired with Blaster's cassettes, letting them cover more shifts. And I know the Aerialbots have been itching for a chance to train with the Seekers."

His leader also looked inordinately pleased that Starscream was coming. Prowl quietly rearranged the roster again, giving Prime and Starscream the off-shift together. After a moment, he did the same for the Aerialbots and the other two Seekers, and he sent Ratchet a message to let him know that Soundwave was at the _Ark_.

And mechs said he had no feelings.

*Prowler, what are ya up to?* He could feel Jazz's wry amusement at him over the bond.

*Oh, I'm merely being accommodating,* he replied. *We're going to have visitors for a while, and I'm only making sure that everyone gets to spend some time together in private.*

*Matchmakin' looks good on you,* Jazz chuckled.

*Oh, shush,* Prowl replied, but he sent a burst of affection to his mate. *I will see you later, love.*

*Yeah, ya will.* The image Jazz sent back was definitely unsuitable for a meeting, and not for the first time Prowl was relieved that he had iron control of his doorwings.

Well.

Off-shift was starting to look very tempting indeed.

"Are you leaving right now?" Optimus asked as Soundwave disconnected from the table. "You're welcome to stay for energon, if you like."

"That would be appreciated," Megatron admitted. "We're not lacking fuel anymore, but between going back and forth between the _Nemesis_ and the _Neo_ there hasn't been time for refueling."

Prime nodded. "I'm still on duty, but I think you know your way by now."

"That we do, Prime," Megatron smirked. "Thank you for assisting."

"Of course," Optimus said, as if Autobots helping the Decepticons handling hazardous materials for the good of Earth's environment wasn't unheard of. Jazz would have what Carly affectionately called a 'giggle-fit' when he heard.

Prowl watched the warlord and his TIC walk out of the room, then headed over to watch their progress on Blaster's monitor. Old habits died hard, after all.

* * *

*Can I come out now, Soundwave?*

*Affirmative.* He opened his chest, and Ravage sprang free.

"There a reason you kept her in there until now?" Megatron asked, a slight frown on his face.

"Ravage: in recharge," Soundwave replied. It was the truth, just not the entirety of it. He was not going to tell his lord about Ravage's personal animosities, though, and if the cat wanted to stay away from Steeljaw for now that was none of Megatron's concern.

"If you say so," Megatron replied. Then he smirked. "I know I don't have to tell you of all mechs not to jeopardize the peace."

Soundwave nodded. "Affirmative." He wouldn't risk what he'd found for anything. And even without the added joy of courting Ratchet, he would have worked towards peace for his cassettes' sake.

Ravage stretched languorously, looking more like an Earthen feline than a Cybertronian one, and then turned to face them. "I am going to stretch my legs a little," she announced loftily. "I will find you again before you leave, Soundwave. Lord Megatron." Then she was off, loping easily and gracefully down the hallway.

Megatron smirked when the cat was out of sight. "So who is she running off to meet?"

"Unknown," Soundwave replied. "Ravage: her own. Interference: unneeded."

"You're not keeping them on that tight a leash, then," Megatron mused, eyeing his third speculatively.

"Cassettes: trusted," Soundwave agreed. "Must learn, grow. Autobots: won't harm."

"Like Rumble?" Megatron asked, chuckling, and not too long ago Soundwave would have been very guarded around that look, would have felt a need to defend his cassettes. Now, he just nodded resignedly.

"Affirmative."

Megatron grinned. "Like master, like cassette."

Soundwave would have glared at him if he'd thought it would have any effect. Thankfully, at that moment, a small yellow form entered the hallway in front of them.

Soundwave smirked, hidden by mask and visor, as Megatron's entire focus was taken by the smiling minibot. His lord straightened, probably unknowingly, and grinned down at the little Autobot.

"Hello, little scout."

"Hello, sir," Bumblebee chirped. "Hi, Soundwave. Prowl asked me to meet with you, to help coordinate the Autobots involved in the work done on the _Nemesis_."

"Don't call me sir," Megatron grumbled good-naturedly, and Soundwave almost missed a step. He had _never_ heard that tone from the warlord before.

"Well, then, don't call me little scout," Bumblebee retaliated with a grin, falling into step next to the warlord easily – even if he had to take two steps for Megatron's one.

Soundwave wasn't entirely sure what to make of the pair of them. There was obviously a strong friendship there, and he had a feeling he was looking at one of very few mechs that Megatron trusted with all his spark.

It was a strange, unexpected, but not at all unwelcome development. Bumblebee was a positive influence, and Megatron seemed truly happy for the first time in a long time.

Like many of them did. Starscream and his trine would be elated when they learned of their new placement. In the quiet privacy of his processor, Soundwave doubted that they would get any work done while they were here, but thankfully that was not his problem to deal with.

When a quiet ping came over his private comm channel, he nodded briefly to Megatron and his companion. "Soundwave: requested elsewhere," he intoned, and he knew by their suddenly matching grins that they knew exactly who had pinged him.

"Go," Megatron said, waving him off. "I'll comm you when it's time to leave."

"Affirmative." Soundwave turned and walked away, heading towards medbay.

He didn't think Megatron would comm him anytime soon. Most likely, the rest of their day would be spent on the Ark, previous engagements be damned.

Soundwave didn't mind very much. Not when he saw Ratchet's face light up as he approached.

Yes. He'd be perfectly happy spending the rest of the day here.

"Hey, you," Ratchet said softly, as Soundwave stopped in front of him. Hesitantly, the carrier retracted his facemask and reached for the medic's hand. Ratchet surprised him, though, lifting their joined hands up and nuzzling against the back of Soundwave's fingers. "It's so good to see you."

"Ratchet: beautiful," Soundwave blurted, and was instantly mortified. Without the mask, his blush was easily visible, but he'd promised himself that he wouldn't wear it in Ratchet's presence.

The medic smiled, almost shyly, and Soundwave's spark did a funny little twist. "Thank you. I have a small break before I have to continue rewiring, want to spend it with me?"

"Affirm- yes," Soundwave replied, making an effort to be less formal. This was his Intended, it would only be appropriate to speak more familiarly.

"Good," Ratchet said, smiling again. "Come on, mech."

Soundwave willingly let himself be tugged by the hand down the hall. He checked his subspace for the seventeenth time, making sure the gift was still there.

*Oh, calm down, Soundwave," Ravage sent, amused. *You'll be fine.*

*Ravage: will cease snooping,* Soundwave sent back, a little peeved.

Her mirth was clear and clean as it came over the bond. *Then don't think so loudly.*

Soundwave frowned and muted the bond down to where she was just an awareness in the back of his mind.

"Coming?" Ratchet said, still smiling at him and palming open the door to his own quarters.

"Yes," Soundwave replied, more confident this time, and followed his Intended inside.

* * *

Sideswipe smirked as Megatron followed Bumblebee into the rec room. "Like a puppy. Wonder how Bee managed that."

"Magic," Smokescreen deadpanned, winking at him. "I have it on good authority that Bumblebee's a fairy in disguise."

"I think it's cool," Bluestreak argued, grinning. "Come on, Bee's tamed him with just words and presence, that's beyond impressive, right? I mean, that's Megatron right there, and he's just following Bumblebee around like – like a –"

"Puppy," Sideswipe repeated, dumping his cards in the discard pile.

"Yeah okay, puppy," Bluestreak said, nodding. "But it's good, right? Because the war's definitely over now."

"It's good," Sunstreaker said softly, cradling the sniper in his lap closely. The lack of doorwings meant Bluestreak fit even closer against the golden frame than usual.

Smokescreen grinned, leaned forward. "So I've got odds on who bonds first," he said conspiratorially. "You mechs want in?"

"What are the bets?" Sideswipe eyed his mech curiously, one optic ridge raised. "Are we in there?"

"Yeah, we are," Smokey confirmed, "and you two are. Prime and Screamer, Thundercracker and Fireflight, Skywarp and Silverbolt, Ratchet and Soundwave. And the wild cards."

Sunstreaker eyed him. "Wild cards?"

"Yep. Rumble and Eject. Blaster and Blast Off, though nobody really believes that rumor. Ravage and Mirage."

Bluestreak choked on his energon. "Ravage and _Mirage_?"

"I thought Mirage was with Hound," Sideswipe said. This was news to him; and granted, he didn't keep his ear to the ground as much as Smokey did, but he felt more than a little dense to have missed _this_.

"Word is, those two are just friends," Smokey replied, shrugging. "I know Hound's been eyeing Trailbreaker lately. Course, Trailbreaker's busy eyeing Wheeljack." He smirked. "It's a total mess."

"Why would you put them in the pool, though?" Bluestreak asked. "I mean, I watched Ravage for Valentine's day, she was just wandering around wherever she wanted. We never saw her with Mirage at all, and we would have, don't you think? I mean, I didn't even see Mirage anywhere near her!"

"Exactly," Smokescreen grinned, shuffling the cards. "You never saw Mirage. Besides, I just take the bets. I don't control who goes in the pool. But I can tell you that more than one mech's betting on those two."

Sideswipe stared at him, then grinned. "Oh, that is interesting. Not likely to happen, though. My money's on Prime and Screamer."

"Nah," Sunstreaker said. "Prime'll need to make it some sort of public occasion, and Screamer's too much of a preener to do something on the fly. It'll be months in planning." He grinned. "Thundercracker and Flighty. That Seeker fell hard and fast, and Flight's usually set on what he wants."

Sideswipe shook his head. "Doubt it, bro. Flight's got four brothers."

"One of whom is also in the pot," Sunstreaker argued. "Silverbolt won't argue."

Smokescreen grinned. "Blue?"

"Ratchet and Soundwave," Bluestreak said, leaning back against Sunstreaker's torso.

"They're good old-fashioned courting, though," Sideswipe felt compelled to point out. "That could last forever."

"I don't care." Bluestreak giggled. "Call it a bet on good old-fashioned romance, if that helps. What are the odds on us, anyway?"

"Me 'n Sideswipe are outsiders." Smokescreen winked at him, and Sideswipe smirked back, letting his pede caress his lover's under the table. "I think that's got more to do with me than you, Sides. Apparently I'm considered unreliable." He chortled.

"And us?" Sunstreaker asked. Sideswipe could sense his focus – Sunny was dead curious about this, for some reason.

"You've got better odds," Smokescreen replied, looking down at his cards. "I fold, there's nothing here. You guys are up there with the cross-faction pairs, actually. Above the wild cards – almost equal odds with Screamer and Prime, and they've got the lowest odds of the top four."

"Huh."

Sideswipe stared at his brother. Sunstreaker was _pleased_.

It was freaky as all get-out.

*Uh… bro? Anything I should know?*

*It's nothing.*

Like slag it was nothing. Sideswipe prodded at the bond, but Sunstreaker had reined in that moment of pure happiness so Sides couldn't get a read on it. He watched, scrutinized really, as Sunstreaker hid behind an air of couldn't-care-less, one hand stroking softly over Bluestreak's side.

Sideswipe watched that hand move up and down, sometimes tightening possessively, and he suddenly got it.

It made perfect sense, too.

*It's like they approve of you for him.* He was awed as Sunstreaker's happiness flooded the bond again. *Like they finally have faith in the two of you.*

Sunstreaker didn't reply. He didn't have to. Sideswipe could _feel_ his contentedness.

*It's about slagging time, too. I know you love him, bro.*

Sunstreaker didn't have to reply to that either. The small smile on his face was answer enough.

* * *

"So when are we leaving?"

Megatron raised an optic ridge as he sat down. "Leaving?"

"Yes, for the _Nemesis_ ," Bumblebee replied. "I figured we were coming with you?"

"Hm." He looked down at the energon. It was far superior to what they had had access to on the _Nemesis_ , though the yield from the _Neo_ proved to be a good rival. "Not today. I need Astrotrain or Blast Off to get the mechs that Prime's lent me to the base, and they're not available today."

"Oh." Bumblebee's face fell slightly. At least, Megatron was fairly sure he didn't imagine it.

"Yes."

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Then the little scout perked back up.

"I can come with you today? And then go back with one of the shuttles to pick up the others?"

Megatron gave him a bemused look. "Do you have antigravs?"

"You know I don't," the minibot grinned. "But I'm tiny. Are you saying that big strong you can't carry a minibot during flight?"

Megatron had to smirk at that. He could appreciate courage, and this little mech had loads of it. "What if I drop you, little scout?"

"What if you don't, _sir_?" Bumblebee shot back.

"You'd come stay with me all by yourself? A solitary Autobot in the Decepticon base?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Bumblebee winked. "And this time there's a treaty in place, so I won't have to hide." He sipped from his small cube again. It was less than half the size of Megatron's. "So what do you say?"

Megatron considered. The flight shouldn't be a problem – it wasn't that far, and as Bumblebee had said he was hardly a heavy-weight. And it would be good to get the minibot's input on the latest amendments to the treaty. "Very well. But you clear it with Prime first."

"Already done," Bumblebee replied cheekily. "So when do we leave?"

Soundwave and he were supposed to leave together. Megatron suddenly didn't care. His Third was with his Intended, and Megatron felt charitable enough to not tear him away from the insufferable medic quite yet. And getting out of the Ark was tempting – peace treaty or no peace treaty, he had a hard time shutting down his defense protocols while surrounded by this many Autobots.

*Soundwave. Take the rest of today off and return to the _Neo_ at your leisure.*

*Affirmative. Time: appreciated.*

"Finish your energon," Megatron ordered. "Then we're out of here."

Bumblebee grinned. "Yes, sir."


	10. We stop existing and start living

A/N: Here, have a Seeker chapter!

* * *

 **Arc 3: Springing fresh from the world**

* * *

Chapter 2: We stop existing and start living

* * *

*Skywarp, knock it off.*

*Aww, c'mon, TC. Don't ya wanna have a little fun?*

Starscream would have sneered, had he been in root mode. As it was, he contented himself with ignoring both his wingmates thoroughly.

It was a good day for flying. The weather was clear, crisp cold season giving way to slightly warmer temperatures, and the sun on his plating felt heavenly. Thundercracker, a quiet and steady presence on his right wing, was easy to ignore. Skywarp, trick-flying in front of both of them, was less so.

The dark jet was spiraling slowly, tightening his turns gradually before angling up into a lazy loop. Instead of completing it, he flew towards them, upside-down, only turning down when they'd overtaken him. Then he put on a burst of speed, passing beneath them.

*Skywarp,* Thundercracker said warningly.

*What?* If Skywarp had been in root mode, he would have been pouting.

*Knock it off with the fancy flying.*

*Why? I'm behaving, just stretching my wings a bit. Not even leaving this 'designated flight corridor' the Prime got for us, am I?*

*Skywarp, fall in,* Starscream said, his lost patience apparent in the grumpy tone.

To Skywarp's credit, he fell back to his position on Starscream's left wing with only a little grumbling. It made him slightly easier to ignore… But the quiet and calm soon had Starscream in a tizzy for different reasons.

*Star, I can feel ya thinking all the way over here,* Skywarp complained. *What's got your thrusters in a knot now?*

*He's nervous,* Thundercracker replied before Starscream had a chance to snark at his trinemate. *Star's worried that Prime's changed his mind in the last month. Out of sight, out of mind, right?*

*I am not,* Starscream replied in an insulted tone. Honestly, who'd have thought that peace would make Thundercracker so astute and observant? *I merely tire of your antics. And I dislike the thought of going back to the _Ark_ – last time I was there I was a prisoner, and it wasn't exactly pleasant.*

*I thought you and Prime talked almost every day,* Skywarp said in confusion, losing his focus again and drifting gently from side to side. *How could he forget about you? Taking into account that you're pretty slagging memorable.*

Starscream was sure there was an insult in there. Even with Skywarp's neutral tone.

*I'm nervous, too,* Thundercracker admitted. *Not about Fireflight. But about staying there, with them, for who knows how long it takes to get the _Nemesis_ dismantled. About taking orders from Prime and Prowl.*

*About sharing a residence with those pit-spawned twins,* Starscream muttered.

*Oh, c'mon!* Skywarp giggled. *It's going to be fun! There's a treaty in place! Besides,* and Starscream knew his trine brother would have winked had he been in root mode, *we can stay out of trouble. TC and me can just stay in our quarters or the sky, always surrounded by pretty little jets, and you...* His tone was positively sultry. *You, my dear Screamer, get to move between your two favorite things: the science lab and Optimus Prime.*

*Oh, shut up,* Starscream grouched, speeding up until he was ahead of them. *And don't call me that.*

For the rest of the flight, he really did ignore them. He also tried his hardest to ignore the nervous ache to his tanks and the way his processor kept looping over the same thought tracks – often several at the time.

Optimus happy to see him. Optimus less happy to see him. Optimus coming to greet him at the entrance with a smile on his face. Optimus having forgotten that they were supposed to come today. Optimus having arranged for all three of them to stay with the Aerialbots, where TC and Warp would go away with their respective paramours and leaving the rest of them – rude, hostile and arrogant that they were – to stare and poke at Starscream. Optimus arranging lodging for TC and Warp, but forgetting him, leaving him to board in a broom closet. Or outside on the mountain. Optimus looking at him with surprise from his berth, one terror twin on each side.

That last one made Starscream's spark lurch.

Most of them made no sense at all. As Skywarp said, they had been talking, almost every day. And every day, Starscream was told how much Optimus missed him, how he couldn't wait until they met again.

Words were cheap, though. Words meant little.

*Elite trine, you're crossing into Autobot territory,* a voice said over his comms. It was a bright, chipper voice he didn't recognize. *Keep your current course and speed, and you'll be here in a few minutes. The welcoming committee will be waiting for you.*

*Thank you, Autobot comm officer,* Starscream replied crisply. *Staying course and speed.*

*Oh, it's Rewind, sir,* the Autobot replied. *We're looking forward to having you. See you in a few.*

Starscream toyed with the idea of just turning around. He was so nervous, he was sure he would be trembling if he were in root mode. It was unacceptable. And he couldn't seem to get himself back under control.

The mountain that hid the Autobot ship was visible on the horizon.

*Hey, Star,* Thundercracker said thoughtfully. *How many volcanoes do you think there are on this hemisphere? Can we convert enough of them to revive Cybertron? How much energon do you think that would take?*

Starscream spared a moment to send a grateful glyph at his trinemate. *I must think on that.* Which was what Thundercracker had intended, of course – something to occupy Starscream's busy mind until they'd landed.

By the time the ugly-orange spaceship was visible, Starscream was running calculations of energon expenditure, balancing the need to revive Cybertron with the need to move it into a new, stable orbit. He barely paid attention to where he was flying, following the cues of his trine and landing almost on autopilot.

That lasted until a white and red jet tore out from the _Ark_ entrance with a loud squeal and threw himself at Thundercracker. Behind him, a taller, calmer jet walked out, grinning widely, not stopping until he and Skywarp stood forehead to forehead and staring at each other.

That was it.

No one else came out.

Starscream took hold of those calculations again with all his considerable mental acuity, running the calculations faster and harder than before, pushing his emotions as far down as they would go. He would not react out here, slaggit. He spared enough focus to give his trinemates a condescending smirk, then walked past them and into the _Ark_ proper.

Maybe if he looked determined and confident enough, no one would guess he didn't know where he was going. It had worked before.

He followed the wide hallway, ignoring the smirks and unfriendly stares of the Autobots he passed. The hallway seemed to go on forever, though that might have had something to do with the fact that he always turned away from the noisier corridors at every intersection. Eventually, he found himself in a long, somewhat dark corridor with a reinforced door at the end. In front of it stood a familiar white shuttle-former.

Skyfire stared at him. "Starscream?"

"Hello, Skyfire," he replied tartly. "It is good to see you. Are you surprised to see me?"

"Yes, well no, I knew you were coming," the other scientist replied. "I had just expected that you would – well…"

"Yes?" Starscream prompted, in a tone that dared his old friend to say another word.

Skyfire, it seemed, remembered that tone. "Never mind," he said hastily. "Would you like to see what we're working on? I would appreciate the chance to pick your processor about my latest project."

"Of course," Starscream said, with what he thought was his pleasant smile. Judging by the look on Skyfire's face, he hadn't quite succeeded. "Please lead the way."

He managed to let go of his energon calculations after a few minutes, immersing himself in Skyfire's lunar energon harvesters. The idea was interesting, and a series of smaller energon harvesters set up on Earth's solitary satellite would have an equally high input as a larger one set up on the Earth proper.

Time went faster than he had anticipated, though, or he really had interrupted Skyfire when the shuttle-former was ending his work for the day. Because sooner than Starscream liked, Skyfire began packing his tools away. "Would you join me for some evening energon?" he asked politely.

Starscream couldn't very well refuse, much as he would like to. Much as he would prefer to stay in this lab for the foreseeable future. There was even a small collapsible cot along the back wall – a bit on the small side for winged mecha, but it would do in a pinch. Considering that it seemed as though Optimus really had forgotten about him coming today.

That thought hurt, and he shied away from it. It took him a moment to realize that Skyfire was still waiting for a response, and to realize that there actually was a low fuel warning blinking in the lower corner of his HUD.

"Yes, I would appreciate that," he lied. Poorly. Skyfire frowned at him, that's how bad of an actor he was. And he turned to make sure that Starscream was following as they headed to the door. Starscream must have been very unconvincing.

He would definitely need to perfect his act if he was to stay here. Maybe he could talk Skyfire into letting him have his own desk so he wouldn't have to look at anybody. Between that and the cot in the corner he might be able to get through it. Something could probably be figured out for future runs for energon. As long as he could get through this one.

But when Skyfire palmed the door open, another tall mech was waiting outside, hand raised to knock.

"Skyfire, have you seen – Starscream?" Optimus stared from the shuttle to the Seeker, and Starscream found himself scowling and looking away.

Skyfire looked from one to the other. "I… I will let you two have some privacy."

Optimus stepped back to let the scientist leave, and then walked into the lab. Starscream still refused to look at him, but it was hard to miss a mech Optimus's size crowding into his personal space.

"Oh, Starscream," Optimus murmured, and Starscream flinched slightly as one large digit stroked gently down his cheek. "You have every right to be upset with me."

That… was different. He had expected – not to be struck, not by this one, but at least to be ranted at for being in one of his snits. Maybe laughed at and insulted for being too full of himself. Not to be told that he was actually entitled to what he was feeling.

"I was in a command meeting," Optimus continued. "I had every intention to be there when you arrived. I was pacing back and forth in the control room, pretty much ready to run out at a moment's notice. But then the humans had something they found critically important that we absolutely had to discuss there and then, and before I could get away you had already arrived and disappeared. I ran around looking like a mad mech trying to find you before I pinged Teletraan 1 for Skyfire's location, hoping he could lead me to you."

"The humans had something that was critically important to them," Starscream echoed, daring to look up at Optimus and frown at him. Even though facing the mech made him slightly weak in the knees.

"Yes," Optimus replied, caressing Starscream's cheek again. "And I was stupid enough to let it get in the way of something that is critically important to me."

Starscream blushed. Fiercely. He could feel it.

Damn Prime and his sweet-talking.

"Words are easy," he muttered, looking away again.

"Yes, they are," Prime agreed, letting his hand move until he cradled Starscream's chin. "Will you let me prove it? Make it up to you?"

Starscream straightened, pulled dignity and arrogance around himself like a cloak, and tried to stare Prime down.

And caved. Utterly and completely.

Because Optimus had removed his blast mask, his handsome face fully visible and wearing a look of concerned contrition. Vibrant blue eyes were staring into Starscream's own, and the Seeker suddenly knew exactly how sorry Optimus felt. It was about as upset as he himself felt, if not more.

And the affection. Oh Primus, the affection. Apparent in every look, every gesture.

It was too much to resist.

With an almost-shiver, he let himself melt against Optimus's broad chest. The Prime's arms enveloped him immediately, pulling him close. He could feel gentle nuzzles against his helm vents.

"Will you let me take you for energon?" Optimus asked softly. "In the rec room?"

Starscream lifted his head again, looked up at his face. "Are you asking me out on a date, Optimus Prime?"

"No," Optimus said, kissing his helm again. "If it was a date, I'd take you to the concert halls. Then a walk in the crystal garden. And we would end the evening on the highest balcony in the Academy towers, where you could point out to me all the stars you'd seen up close and I could watch you."

Starscream drew a shuddering breath, leaning against the taller mech. "I would have liked that."

"Yes," Optimus agreed. "As it is, all I have to offer you is simply processed energon from a standard dispenser, in the company of mechs who are rowdy more often than not and probably louder than you appreciate, and cramped ship quarters. We can still watch the stars, if you like."

"You forgot something," Starscream said, feeling brave.

"Oh?" Optimus asked politely. "What did I forget?"

"You've offered me yourself," Starscream whispered. He'd meant to have more volume to it, really he had, but his vocalizer just didn't work right.

"Yours always," Optimus said simply. "Never doubt that."

"Show me?" Starscream asked, voice still softer and more doubtful than he'd intended.

"Gladly," Optimus breathed, tilting his head down towards Starscream's, eyeing his lips.

The room melted away. Everything melted away. The last month apart faded. The only thing Starscream was aware of was the heat of Optimus' frame against his own, the arms holding him, the lips moving against his.

It was endless and far, far too short.

"You're forgiven," he whispered as it ended.

"You're amazing," Optimus whispered back. "So will you join me? Energon," he hesitated, looking down, "and then my quarters?"

"Absolutely." Starscream grinned. "Lead the way, my Prime."

Optimus beamed at that. It was enough to make Starscream's knees misbehave again. "Yes, my Star."

Oh yes, he could get used to this.

* * *

Skywarp looked up at the mech sitting across the table from him. Silverbolt, sensing his gaze through some sixth sense or other, looked up. As their eyes met, they both blushed a bit and looked away. Then Skywarp looked up again to find Silverbolt looking at him. This time the blushes were accompanied by matching grins, before they both looked away again.

Skywarp's spark was fluttering.

He looked up again, and this time neither of them looked away. Skywarp drank in everything about the other mech – the way his optics crinkled in the corners when he grinned, the blush spreading across angular cheeks, the way he worried at his lower lip even as he was grinning.

Silverbolt was adorable. Skywarp couldn't look away.

"Oh, get a room," someone snarked. "Slagging fliers. Slagging Decepticon, schmoozing up to _our_ Aerials."

Silverbolt's face fell slightly, and he looked down. Skywarp couldn't have that.

"Why," he said, turning to the little red minibot, "ya jealous? Upset that Megatron sent us here instead of the Coneheads? Oh, don't worry, shrimp," he grinned as the minibot sputtered angrily. "I'll talk to the old Slagmaker for ya, see if he won't send Rams and his trine here next. Or maybe we can arrange for ya to take a quick holiday at the _Neo_ , huh?" He leered at the small bot. "I'm sure Ramjet can soothe those crinked cables of yours."

The 'Bot sputtered and shook, snarling wordlessly at him, before turning and stomping out.

Silverbolt giggled. "That was brilliant. And much nicer than Cliffjumper deserved. He's completely insufferable." He lifted his cube and peeked up from behind it. "Thanks for not starting something on my behalf. I don't want you spending your days here in the brig."

Skywarp shrugged. "Hey, if he can dish it, he can take it. Besides, we're at peace now. I won't risk that." He smiled a bit as he met the other's optics. "There's too much at stake."

"Yes, there is," Silverbolt agreed softly. Then he smiled. "You done? Want to see where you and Thundercracker will be staying?"

"Absolutely." Skywarp stood up. "Lead the way."

Silverbolt did fall in in front of him as they left the rec room. That gave Skywarp an excellent view of that very fine aft, and he had to resist the urge to touch – but this time, with this mech, he wanted to do it right. No fragging it up with Silverbolt. He meant too much.

So when the Aerialbot fell into stride next to him as the corridor widened, Skywarp took his hand and didn't mind the lost view. He'd be quite happy for a good long while just from the way Silverbolt's fingers intertwined with his own.

"I'm afraid there aren't that many spaces here big enough for fliers," Silverbolt said, thumb rubbing smooth circles over the back of Skywarp's hand. "Even Skyfire's forced into cramped, too-small quarters. When we onlined, there wasn't anywhere for us, so we ended up fixing this place up ourselves. It was a hangar back when the Ark was a spaceship, but it got smashed up in the crash. It's the only place big enough for all five of us together – well, almost the only place. The Protectobots fixed up a hangar of their own too, but they only have one flier so it's easier."

Skywarp was happy to let Silverbolt chatter on as he led the way, but what he said was intriguing. "Wait, so we're staying with you? In your room?"

"Yes," Silverbolt said, shooting him a glance. "As I said, it's the only space that's big enough. Is… Is that a problem?"

"Problem?" Skywarp's optic ridges shot up. "No, it's most definitely not a problem. I'm just surprised, is all. That you would trust us that much."

Silverbolt gave him a shy smile and squeezed his hand. "It's a brand new day, isn't it?"

Skywarp just grinned and squeezed back.

They stopped in front of a door that was wide enough for Motormaster to drive through in alt mode. Silverbolt pulled at one of the door handles and shot Skywarp a grin. "Welcome to the Aerie."

Skywarp walked inside curiously. "Wow, this is big. Bigger than the Combaticon quarters on the Nemesis, even. You all have your own rooms?" He eyed the various doorways going off the main chamber.

"Now we do," Silverbolt replied. "I always did, but Flighty used to share with Skydive, and Raider used to share with Slings. That got a bit impractical when… well."

"When you started bringing other mechs home," Skywarp grinned. "I get it. I've tossed out TC when necessary, too."

"Exactly." Silverbolt smiled and squeezed Skywarp's hand. "It got easier to expand." He walked over to one of the doorways. "This is you and Thundercracker while you're here. Fireflight's moved in with me."

That had an air of specific planning over it. Skywarp couldn't help but think how much easier it was to redo the sleeping arrangements if either of them wanted privacy than if Silverbolt was sharing with Skydive or something.

Not that he was going to push. For once, he would do this properly and let Silverbolt set the pace. It wasn't very typical of him – Skywarp had always gone after what he wanted instantly – but then again, Thundercracker had already fragged Fireflight in every way possible and that wasn't typical of him either, so there. Nothing was typical here.

In fact…

"You know TC's going to throw me out of there as soon as he can," he pointed out. "He and Fireflight are pretty much inseparable already. I've never seen TC that into anyone." He focused on the trinebond for a moment, then pulled back. "Slag him, he didn't wait long, did he? We've only just arrived."

Silverbolt stared at him, then focused inward and flinched. "Pit. You're right about that. I know my brother; we're not going to be able to pry those two apart." He looked from the Seekers' room to another doorway. "Well, I suppose we could… That is, if you don't mind…"

Skywarp let his hand run over white wing plating. "I'm pretty sure there's not much you could come up with that I would mind."

Silverbolt met his optics, worrying on that plump lower lip again. "Well, I guess we could move Fireflight back into his own room. And you can room with me."

"You sure that's okay?"

"Yeah." Silverbolt smiled. "I trust you." That hand took his again, and Skywarp let himself be pulled in the direction of another room. "Besides, you're right. This would have happened anyway. And this way, we get a lot more time to talk and such."

Skywarp couldn't resist anymore. He pulled Silverbolt to a stop, cradled that surprised face in his hands and pressed his mouth against those plump lips.

After an eternity, they broke the kiss. Silverbolt leaned in to nuzzle against Skywarp's jaw. "I've been wondering when you were going to do that."

Skywarp grinned, pressed another kiss to Silverbolt's forehead. "I was waiting for the perfect moment. And then I couldn't wait anymore."

Silverbolt grinned back at him, and there was a definite wicked gleam in his optics. "Want to wait some more, or do you want to do it again?"

"Oh, I want to do it again," Skywarp purred. "As often as you want me to."

"Well," Silverbolt hummed, mouth already chasing Skywarp's, "I guess it's a good thing we already switched the rooms around."

* * *

Fireflight moaned and arched his back, giving Thundercracker better access to sensitive neck cabling. His back and wings were scraping against the wash rack walls, but he barely noticed. Not with Thundercracker lavishing all his attention on him like this.

"You're so beautiful," the Seeker breathed. "So gorgeous, Flight. Primus."

"Want you," Fireflight moaned.

Thundercracker chuckled. "Not here, loveling. Anyone can walk in and see. I just arrived, I don't want to have to leave just yet."

"Oh, they've walked in on worse," Fireflight giggled. "Sideswipe and Sunstreaker live here, you know. And don't get me started on Wheeljack."

"That's as may be," Thundercracker hummed into his neck cabling. "But they've never walked in on a Decepticon. I'd rather not test whether or not the instinct to shoot the purple symbol first and ask questions later has faded yet."

"We could switch places and I could drive you into the wall? Then they would see me before they saw you."

"Tempting. But no." The Seeker nuzzled his audial. "I'm sure there are better venues for this."

Fireflight pouted, thoroughly enjoying the effect the expression had on the handsome Seeker in front of him. "Oh, okay then. Let's at least do the actual cleaning up we came in here to do, though." He winked at the taller mech. "I'll do your wings if you do mine?"

"Oh, I'll do your wings all right," Thundercracker rumbled, and the deep timbre of his voice sent shivers all the way up Fireflight's back struts. "Turn around."

Fireflight obliged, letting himself be mech-handled until he was standing under the hot shower. He sighed in bliss as Thundercracker's strong hands worked circles across his wings and back kibble. "That feels wonderful."

"Consider it a sample," the Seeker said, hot exvents ghosting over Fireflight's plating. "To tide you over."

"Oh?" Fireflight grinned. "So I haven't already sampled everything you have to offer?"

"Not by a long shot." Thundercracker's glossa traced Fireflight's audial. "I have vorns of experience to share with you."

"Will you teach me?" Fireflight gasped, pressing into the Seeker's hands.

"Well, that is why he's here," a voice said cheerfully. "See, Ah can do double entendres too!"

"Hey, Jazz," Fireflight said with a smile. "What brings you here? Don't you guys have a private wash rack?"

"We do when th' twins haven't pranked it." The saboteur winked. "Ah don' feel like bein' neon yellow today. Hello, Thundercracker."

"Hello, Jazz." Thundercracker's touches became more professional and less intimate on Fireflight's wings, and he pouted a bit again, but it was probably understandable that Thundercracker wanted to restrain himself at this point. He didn't understand that Jazz – or Red Alert, or for that matter the rest of his gestalt – was always watching anyway. Fireflight never had privacy.

TC didn't need to know that yet, though. Flight didn't want to scare him away.

"So, TC," Jazz said conversationally, "how's peace treating the Decepticons?"

Thundercracker chuckled, and Fireflight shivered. "I think we're still shell-shocked. Many of the others have trouble adapting, that's part of why Megatron initiated the move to the _Neo_. And for mechs like the Stunticons, created to be soldiers in wartime, it's especially difficult. Megatron's sending them out racing regularly to burn their energy off, now that we have the resources to do so. And the others are settling, rediscovering what they used to enjoy doing back when we could actually do something other than fight and starve."

"It's amazin' what full tanks and safety can do," Jazz said contemplatively. "So you don't see any problems? No rogue elements?"

"Some are going to need more time and help than others," Thundercracker replied in the same tone. "The Stunties. Vortex and Brawl. Maybe a few of the others. But they're not willfully disturbing the peace, they're just…"

"Lost," Fireflight supplied helpfully, and was rewarded with a warm chuckle and a gentle squeeze of one wing.

"Yes, lost," Thundercracker said. "And then there's the whole situation with Cybertron. I don't know what's being done about the troops there."

"There's a whole section in the treaty," Jazz replied. "Prime an' Megs are workin' on it."

"That's good enough for me," Thundercracker said. "As long as they're working together."

"Who would've thought we'd get to see that," Jazz said, and his smile was as warm as Fireflight had ever seen it.

"Who indeed," TC replied. "I'm so grateful that we did. I wouldn't give this up for anything." His arms snaked around Fireflight's waist, leaving no doubt as to what exactly 'this' referred to. "I owe your mate more than I can ever put into words."

"We all do," Jazz agreed softly. And then his face split in a wide grin. "Which is why I'm goin' ta go find 'im and show 'im right now. Bye, mechs!" He dried off in a hurry and bounced out of the wash racks.

Thundercracker nuzzled Fireflight's audial. "Want to follow his example?"

"Pit yes," Fireflight breathed. He was more than ready. "Let's get out of here."

Maybe he would have to get Prowl a present or something to thank him. He could think about that later. Right now, he had a beautiful Seeker to please.


	11. Make a little space, make a better place

_A/N: So, this chapter contains one of my favorite scenes from this fic. Possibly from the entire series even._  
 _Also, slight warning for something that could be bestiality if you squint._

* * *

 **Arc 3: Springing fresh from the world**

* * *

Chapter 3: Make a little space, make a better place

* * *

It was dark at the bottom of the sea. Bumblebee knew that, he'd spent more time trekking to and from the _Nemesis_ than he cared to remember. At least this time, he didn't fear for his life.

Much.

*Slaggit, 'Charger, mind where you're dropping those things!*

*Sorry, Bee, they got away from me.*

*Yeah, yeah. Hook, Hoist, what's your status?*

"We're working on it, Bee!* Hoist sounded chipper, which was no surprise. Nor was Hook's slight sneer.

*If someone hadn't insisted on building this from substandard material in the first place, this would have been much easier.*

*Well, we need to get that section dismantled,* Bumblebee said. *Let me know how it goes.*

*I told you you would have made a good Decepticon,* Megatron said over the private channel. There was a note of pride in his voice.

*Any authority I have is borrowed from you,* Bumblebee replied. *Well, you and Optimus. But it seems to get the job done.*

*It certainly does,* Megatron agreed. *But I wouldn't discredit myself if I were you, little scout. Hook doesn't listen to anyone easily.*

*I know.* Bumblebee grinned, even though he knew Megatron couldn't see it. *That's why he's paired with Hoist and Grapple. Later, I'll trade him for Bonecrusher and Scrapper, and he'll have to work with Beachcomber and Hound. I think it'll work, though.*

*You know my Decepticons very well.*

*Comes from being a fly on the wall.* Bumblebee shrugged. *I've watched you guys for so long, I had to become familiar with all your quirks to survive.*

*Quirks?* Megatron sounded intrigued. *Such as?*

*Such as the Coneheads' love-hate relationship with the Elite trine. Or Reflector's berth hopping, splitting up to go to whoever pays most – that's nasty, by the way, you should put a stop to that before he hurts himself. Thundercracker's script writing. Scavenger's collection in that cave over there. Mixmaster's pining after Blast Off, and Blast Off's fascination with Mirage, which seems to include Blaster now, too. Though I suspect that's a shuttle to comms mech thing more than an actual Blast Off to Blaster thing.* He chuckled. *I know all the gossip.*

Megatron laughed too, a low, rich sound that reverberated along Bumblebee's struts. *You certainly do. And what do you know about me?*

*You were always hard to spy on, sir,* Bumblebee admitted. *And really risky, too. Especially in private. But I know…* He paused, looked at Bonecrusher and Brawn cutting into the _Nemesis_ ' hull. *I know that you lost your way at some point. Everything was very clean-cut, once, the direction was easy. And then everything went to pit, and you woke up here, and everybody was antsy from being stuck in the ship all the time, and everywhere you turned there were Autobots. Or Starscream. And since you didn't know how to handle it without making everything worse, and still had to come up with plans to both keep the 'Cons busy and at least make it seem as though you had everything under control, you became… erratic. Increasingly violent. Prone to fits of rage, or drinking yourself into a stupor. To be honest, sir,* he turned to where he knew Megatron was standing, observing everything. *I think Prowl's invitation came just in time. I think you were heading for your own destruction.*

*So perceptive,* Megatron whispered, and there was barely any sound to his voice. *You see so much, little scout.*

Bumblebee glanced quickly at the work being done, and decided that they could do without him for a little while. He made his way over to where Megatron was standing – slowly, because of the water resistance and the ground swallowing his pedes for every step. When he finally did make it to the warlord, he climbed up on the boulder Megatron was sitting on and sat down beside him.

*None of what I just said was ever reported to anyone else,* he said softly. *I considered it irrelevant information. I know enough about both you and Optimus to know that Optimus would see your state of mind as a way in to try to get through to you, and you would resent him for it and probably blow up the moon or something in retaliation.*

*I've never considered blowing up the moon,* Megatron said wryly, but there was a dark chasm beneath the words.

*Oh, I know.* Bumblebee grinned up at Megatron's face, high above him. Even seated, his head barely reached Megatron's chest.

The warlord was looking at the _Nemesis_. His base was being deconstructed, piece by piece. It was a process – on one end was Hound and Beachcomber, evaluating the structure and surrounding seabed, using a welding torch to mark the parts that were to be demolished and the parts where corals and other sea creatures had taken over and used the hull as a home. One of the towers had already been marked as banned, with big signs around it and the words 'Coral Reserve' marked on it. Beachcomber had been thorough.

Next to them, Hook was working with Hoist and Grapple to carefully dismantle the hull. Then Bonecrusher, Brawn and Windcharger, cutting the pieces apart and lifting them off. Mixmaster and Scavenger were inside, salvaging whatever could be saved of the interior, including the _Nemesis_ ' decrepit engines. Rumble and Frenzy were on the other end, breaking up the already dismantled hull into smaller pieces, and Long Haul was working with Seaspray – one on the surface, one on the seabed – to get the pieces raised.

It had to be a sentimental sight for the warlord next to him.

Tentatively, Bumblebee reached out and placed his hand on Megatron's arm. *You did okay down here, you know,* he said softly. *You kept them together, and you didn't lose anyone. Pit, you even shipped fuel to Cybertron.* He smiled wryly. *I won't say that you've got nothing to be afraid of, because that would be a lie. But you did okay.*

*I suppose that's the best endorsement I can ask for,* Megatron replied. *And it's a fair bit better than I would get from anyone else.* His grey hand moved to lie over Bumblebee's, covering it completely. *Thank you, Bumblebee.*

*You're welcome, Megatron.* Bumblebee gave the warlord's arm a squeeze before letting go and jumping down from the boulder, sinking gently down to the bottom – into it slightly, even. He smiled up at Megatron. *Ready to help dismantle your base, sir? We could sure use that strength of yours.*

Megatron looked down, with the gentlest smile that Bumblebee had ever seen on his face. *Well, I suppose I still have some use left in me.* He slid down from the boulder much more sedately than Bumblebee had, sinking further into the mud. *Come on. Let's see if they need us.*

Bumblebee was just about the perfect height for his shoulder to fit under Megatron's servo as they walked.

* * *

Eject leaned back into the cassette-sized chair in Blaster's quarters. He was taking full advantage of the fact that his brothers were all on duty, as was Blaster himself, giving the cassette some much appreciated alone time.

He needed it, too. It had taken him a while to get his nerves under control. He couldn't have done this if any of the others had been there with him.

He activated his comm.

For a moment, nothing happened. Eject tried to suppress the disappointment – it wasn't the first time his comm hadn't been accepted immediately, and there was always a good reason.

And then a voice replied. *Hey.*

*Rumble?*

*Who else?* He could hear the grin in Rumble's voice. *You commed me, didn't ya? Did you expect someone else to respond?*

*Well, no,* Eject replied, giggling. *I just.. I'm glad you did.*

*Dumbaft,* Rumble said affectionately. *So what's up?*

*I need a reason to comm you?* Eject asked, daring to tease a bit.

*You often have one,* Rumble replied. *But I don't mind if you don't have one, either. Oh, hang on.*

Eject waited patiently, ignoring the fluttering in his tanks. He was _so_ glad his brothers weren't here for this.

*Heh, moron,* Rumble snickered. *You should see this, Eject. Scavenger just came out of the Nemesis with an armful of – well, arms. Freaked out your architect completely.*

*Who, Grapple?* Eject grinned, more at the tone of Rumble's voice than at the story he was telling. *He didn't like that?*

*Not one bit. Hook's happy, though. Apparently, he's been looking for those spares for a while.* Rumble laughed. *Scav's not letting them go, though. Finders keepers, he says. And your quasi-medic -*

*Hoist,* Eject supplied helpfully.

*- yeah, him. He says that the parts have been submerged for too long anyway, so Scav might as well have'em. So now Hook's shouting at both of them, Grapple's tryin' to calm him down, Scrapper's telling Scav to shut up, and – oh. Megatron's walking over to them now. He'll sort them out, I bet.* He chuckled again, and then his voice suddenly lowered an octave. *So what're you doing?* he purred.

Eject could feel himself blush. *Oh, um, nothing. Nothing that interesting. I just – are you guys coming back here to Soundwave tonight?*

*Dunno,* Rumble replied. *Haven't asked yet. The boss is busy with your grouch medic, so he'd probably appreciate it if we left him alone, but we can't stay here all night.*

*So can you come back here with Blades or one of the others?* Eject asked, trying to conceal how eager he was.

*I guess,* Rumble replied. *I'll ask Seaspray if we can hitch-hike. Did you have something specific in mind?*

*There's a movie showing in the rec room tonight that I think both you and Frenzy would like,* Eject said. *I was hoping – I mean, maybe you'd – well -*

Rumble chuckled. "Hey, Eject.*

*Yeah?*

*Wanna watch a movie with me tonight?*

*I'd love to,* Eject replied, giggling. *Will you pick me up at eight?*

*I'll try,* Rumble replied. *Gotta make sure we'll get there before then, though. So what's the film?*

*Nuh-uh, that's a surprise,* Eject grinned. *It's right up your alley, though. I think you'll have fun.*

*I think so, too. Drum up one of your brothers to keep Frenzy busy?*

*You know it,* Eject nodded, even though Rumble couldn't see him. *I'll sic Steelie on him. That should do the trick. He's annoyed that Ravage won't talk to him, he needs a distraction.*

*Frenz is always up for creating distractions,* Rumble chuckled. *Ravage is being a cold cat, huh? I think Steeljaw just doesn't do it for her, and she's afraid he'll force the point since they have similar frames. It's happened before.*

*Steeljaw wouldn't do that,* Eject protested. *He just wants to talk. Cybercat to cybercat, you know. And I think he's hoping that she can help him with a coding problem that Blaster hasn't been able to track down. It's a cat thing, apparently.*

*Maybe he should just ask her, then, instead of popping up everywhere she goes,* Rumble said. *She's prissy, but she's decent enough.*

*Yeah, maybe. I'll tell him. So I'll see you tonight?*

*Definitely,* Rumble purred.

Eject shivered, glad no one was there to see the effect Rumble's voice had on him. *I'll go make arrangements. See you later.*

Rumble gave an affirmative hum and ended the connection.

Eject smiled and bounced to his feet. "Well," he said crisply, "time to go set this up."

* * *

Ravage slunk through the hallways, avoiding the more common routes, taking little known paths until she came to a usually avoided door.

She pinged for entry. Instead of a simple command, it was a complicated code of tones and images and nuance. When prompted, she sent a different one.

*Who is it?*

*It's me,* she replied. *I came for the knowledge.*

*Will you stay for the memory?*

*No. But I will stay for the dream.*

The coded responses were accepted, and the door slid open before her. She entered the semi-dark room. It was lit only by the multitude of screens, each throwing an eerie light on the faceplates of the mech seated in front of them. He didn't turn to watch her enter.

Ravage padded over to sit next to him on the floor. "Hello, Red Alert."

"Ravage," he acknowledged. "You took route 27-beta from quadrant seven at the back of the mountain. At the intersection of sectors 4 and 5 you detoured, circling around to skirt the edges of the common areas and taking route 61-delta back towards the brig. And then you took to the vents as you crossed medbay and the engineering departments, before following the hallways until you got here."

"That is correct," Ravage agreed. "You've managed to close the security gaps in those sectors, then. Good."

Red Alert nodded, and finally looked away from the screen. He disconnected all but a few of his data cables and slid to the floor next to her. "I couldn't have done this without your help. Blaster's cassettes have been patrolling the vents, but they don't have your skills."

"Few do," Ravage agreed. It was only truth, after all. "Do you wish to verify?"

"I do." He popped open a cover on his hip, unspooled his cables. "If I may?"

"Of course." She tilted her head to the side to give him access to the panel on her neck, sending the command to open it. "As always."

Red Alert nodded, still all business, as he lifted his own cable to connect to her and unspooled hers in turn. She could feel him there in her mind, content to wait until the two-way connection was established.

She could feel the moment it was. Both in her mind, where Red Alert's presence slid up against her firewalls as she dropped them one by one, and on her frame, where he finally trusted it was her enough to touch her. Dark fingers traced her audials, travelled down her neck to caress her shoulders before tugging gently at her frame. She followed the pull, walking forward until she was in his lap. In her mind, Red Alert reviewed the infiltration she had done through her own optics, just as he'd watched it earlier on the cameras.

They didn't speak. Words weren't needed.

Ravage relished in the surety of his examination, in the quiet affirmation of her skills. In the gentle touches across her frame, where his fingers explored familiar areas known to reduce her to an undignified purring pile of plating. She could feel his amusement at her reactions, too.

She could also feel, through their connection, what this brought him. The knowledge that who he had considered the biggest threat against him – and wasn't that compliment enough to have her purring in and of itself – was on his side, and the sense of safety it gave him. The trust he was giving her, so rare for him to give any other mech, and shown in how close he allowed her to get and his careful touches on her mind.

It wasn't interfacing as most would consider it. The act was more reminiscent of how Soundwave would dock her in his chest and view the knowledge in her mind as they were connected. But when Red Alert was satisfied, when they agreed wordlessly that the work done was good, the mental and physical touches gained a different purpose.

Their charge rose slowly. Ravage pressed her frame against Red Alert's chassis, letting the Autobot cradle her close, and Red Alert curled down around her and rested his face against her neck. They trembled together, drowning in the mutual closeness, until it became too much to bear and overload took both of them at once.

*You are so beautiful.*

*As are you, dearling.* She purred, reveling in the adoration she could feel over the cables. *You are amazing.*

They sat for a moment longer, Red Alert caressing Ravage's face with loving fingers, before he sighed and disconnected them. Ravage leapt easily to the floor, stretching her sated frame as she did.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked, putting his cables away.

"If we are still here," she confirmed. "Keep an optic out for me?"

"Always," he promised fervently. "Come back to me?"

"You know I will," she purred. She waited as he stood, sliding the vent cover aside for her. She rubbed against his legs one last time before leaping up into the dark opening.

*Fare well, my love.*

*And you, dearest. I will see you soon.* She crawled down the vent without looking back.

* * *

Optimus sighed, looking over the notes again. He knew there was a solution somewhere, but as tired as he was, it kept evading him.

A warm frame suddenly draped itself across his back. "So, _someone_ is working too late and neglecting his other duties," Starscream purred.

"I'm sorry, Star," he replied, disengaging his face mask with a smile and lifting a hand to caress the helm resting against his shoulder. "How did you get into my office?"

Starscream sniggered. "You say that as if it was a challenge. I hacked your lock, Prime. Your security needs some work."

"Or it simply can't stand against such a brilliant and dedicated processor," he countered, turning in his chair and pulling the Seeker into his lap. "Hello, my love."

Starscream preened, settling in against his chest. "Hello, darling. Now what is so important that it's keeping you in your office at hours not even Soundwave considers civilized?"

He sighed, nuzzling at one of Starscream's helm vents. "Cybertron. We can't get in touch with the mechs there."

Starscream sat up, suddenly all business, and turned to look at the datapads on his desk. "Your side or mine?"

"Both," Optimus said, sliding the relevant datapad into Starscream's waiting fingers. "It's always difficult to get through to Elita, but Megatron says it's usually not this difficult to raise Shockwave."

"No, he's disgustingly on-call for the old slag maker," Starscream agreed. "I can't remember Shockwave not answering without good reason before."

"Which leads us to believe that the connection may be faulty," Optimus said, leaning his helm forward to rest his forehead against Starscream's neck. "We've agreed that we may have to send a team to Cybertron to reestablish contact."

"That should work," Starscream mused, pushing one datapad away and pulling another to him. "The space bridge is still functional." He tilted his head and pursed his lips.

For a moment, Optimus was distracted by the way the light fell over the Seeker's face and frame, and the sheer loveliness of the apparition in his lap. "Primus, you're beautiful," he blurted, blushing instantly.

Starscream smirked at him. "Why, thank you. But let's focus on this problem, shall we? And then we can get out of here and do something I believe we'll both find more entertaining." He leaned back against Optimus' chest, though, and didn't protest when the Prime put his arms around the Seeker's waist and nuzzled his helm vent.

"This report reads like Prowl," Starscream snorted, putting the datapad back down. "But I think he's right on all counts. You need to send someone to reestablish contact, a small group is better than a large one, and whoever is sent needs to make contact with both factions and carry enough weight to imprint on them that the truce is genuine." He twisted in Optimus' lap until they were face to face. "So who are you sending?"

"That's the problem," Optimus sighed. "The only thing we've decided is that it should be one or two from each faction, and to make sure that it is evident that they're on friendly terms they should preferably be partners or mates. We certainly have enough of those to choose from. I'd go myself, but apparently I'm too high profile a target. Shockwave doesn't know that there's a truce in place, and his guards are likely to shoot at anyone they perceive as an enemy."

Starscream nodded thoughtfully. "And I suppose Megatron's out for the same reason. Too high a risk that Elita and her ilk will attack the moment they see him." He smirked then. "I can imagine what was said when my name was thrown in. Since I assume I'd be the one to go with you."

"You would be," Optimus replied, kissing the dark helm. "And that was a strike against me, too. Your credibility was questioned."

Starscream laughed, and the sound had Optimus' spark spinning faster. "Yes, I can imagine. 'Truce' would not be the first thing Shockwave would assume if he saw me in your company."

"Exactly," Optimus grinned, pleased that his Seeker didn't seem to be offended. "And no one would believe that Bumblebee was with Megatron of his own free will if we had sent those two. Not that we could – Megatron is very taken with my scout, it seems, and blatantly refused to send him on a mission that could mean any sort of danger. Even if they both went together."

"I can imagine," Starscream grinned. "He seems to be fiercely protective. And Bumblebee's tiny."

"Though he be but little, he is fierce," Optimus paraphrased, and Starscream quirked an optic ridge at him. "Never mind. It was a quote from a play by an Earth playwright."

Starscream apparently chose to ignore the entire comment, staring down at the datapad instead. "So Jazz and Prowl are out, because they're both Autobots… Thundercracker and Fireflight are suggested here as a viable option, I'd discourage that. TC doesn't have the political clout to convince Shockwave, and Fireflight is unknown even among your own troops. Skywarp and Silverbolt is out for the same reason." He put the datapad away. "There's really only one viable option, and they're not even listed here."

"Oh? And which option is this?" Optimus said curiously. His fingers caressed red hips, moving in slow circles.

"Soundwave and Ratchet," Starscream said simply.

Optimus stared at him. "That… makes perfect sense. I can't believe we didn't see it."

"I can," his Seeker replied. "Soundwave is never sent out on missions, he's too critical for day-to-day operations. We couldn't handle losing him. But things are different now. Also, this isn't a normal mission, and he's one of the few mechs Shockwave will easily listen to. His loyalty has never been in question."

"We've never sent Ratchet out either," Optimus thought aloud. "We've always needed him here. His skills are invaluable. But now that the fighting is over…"

"And you have two other medics, as well as the Constructicons, to call on if needed," Starscream supplied.

"- you're right," Optimus said in surprise. "They're the only viable option." He commed Prowl immediately, letting him know their conclusion, and received an affirmative ping in return. That done, he turned all his attention to the Seeker in his lap. "You, my love, are quite the genius."

"Of course," Starscream smirked. "Honestly, I don't know why it takes everyone such a long time to realize that."

"Perhaps because your frame is so distracting?" Optimus hummed, letting the vibrations of his rumbling engine travel into the Seeker's lithe frame.

"Oh, are you saying I'm nothing but a pretty face?" Starscream asked dryly, raising an optic ridge at him again.

Optimus just smiled and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "You are so much more than that, my Star." He nipped at the Seeker's lower lip teasingly, enjoying the growl he got in return. "So much more."

"You talk a good talk," Starscream purred, pressing against him. Dark fingers caressed the Autobot leader's grille, teasing the metal. "But for some lame reason we're still in your office."

"I can remedy that," Optimus rumbled. He cradled Starscream's legs, placing them on either side of his waist, and stood up. "My quarters?"

"Your quarters," Starscream confirmed in low, sultry tones. "I need to be yours."

"I think we can arrange that," Optimus purred. He palmed the door open, easily supporting Starscream's weight with one hand. Then he stopped, looking down at the Seeker's optics, drowning in them. "You know my spark is yours in all but name, love."

"Now you're talking again," Starscream whispered, wide optics staring up at him. Sharp denta bit into a dark lower lip.

"They're not just words, my Star," Optimus replied, raising his free hand to cradle the Seeker's faceplates.

"Then prove it," his Seeker murmured, leaning into the caress. "As I said. Make me yours."

Optimus stared at him in surprise for a moment. Then the Seeker's meaning came together in his mind, and he groaned, pressing his mouth against Starscream's hungrily.

When the kiss broke, they were both panting hard. "Are you sure, love? Is that what you want?" Optimus couldn't quite believe it. It was too much.

"Yes," Starscream breathed, letting his head fall forward to rest against Optimus' shoulder. "More than I've ever wanted anything." He looked up, bit his lip in that adorable way. "I mean. If you want to."

Optimus chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss against the Seeker's dark faceplates. "I do. I swear. And I will demonstrate it to you."

He kissed his Seeker again as he walked down the hallway, cradling him close. This time, the kiss wasn't broken for anything.

* * *

Ratchet led his Intended through the rec room door, ignoring the looks and knowing grins they got. Soundwave was behind him, hesitant and nervous, and if Ratchet hadn't held him by the servo the Decepticon would still be outside.

*Relax,* he commed. *They're not going to eat you.*

*Ratchet: overly confident,* came the answer. *Just because you've never seen them eat a mech before.*

He chuckled. *They're all too afraid of the big, bad Hatchet. You're safe.*

He never would have guessed that Soundwave was hiding such a rich sense of humor under that mask and visor. The mask was off now; it was one of the many reasons that Soundwave was reluctant to enter the rec room. Even most of the Decepticons had never seen him without it.

Ratchet led Soundwave over to one of the couches in the back. He let the carrier have the corner seat, letting him hide behind Ratchet's frame if he wanted. From the way his Intended squeezed his hand, the gesture was appreciated.

Ratchet watched as the room filled and the lights were dimmed. Soundwave was a quiet, nervous presence next to him. The Decepticon was strong, and confident, but he'd never really socialized like this. For him and his cassettes, there had been safety in isolation and aloofness. But things were different now, and Ratchet was determined to show him that this new world was safe.

It was a steep learning curve, though.

*Movie: nonsensical. Why are we watching this?*

Ratchet smiled, lifted their joined servos to nuzzle at navy fingers. *Because Eject thought that your twins would appreciate it. You have to admit that there are some similarities. Besides, it's not about the movie, Soundwave.*

*Then what is it about?*

*We're watching the mechs. And we're being a part of the group. And we're on an official date.* To prove his point, he leaned against the other's shoulder, shifting Soundwave's arm until he was cradled comfortably underneath it. *It's good for them to see how courting is supposed to be. Not this madcap dash to berth they're doing these days.*

*Ratchet: educating the masses,* Soundwave replied. He hesitated, then turned his head to nuzzle at Ratchet's chevron. *Masses: not watching, however.*

*Some are,* Ratchet replied. *Some are.*

Most weren't, though. Ironhide glanced at them now and again, and Bluestreak smiled at them a lot, but that might be because he had Ratbat snoozing on his lap.

*It was nice of you to let Bluestreak mind Ratbat tonight,* he said, tracing nonsensical patterns on the white plating of Soundwave's arm. Their whites matched, but the contrast with Soundwave's navy made his white look clearer somehow.

Ratchet thought it was gorgeous.

*Rumble: happy about that as well,* Soundwave replied with a smile. *And Eject.*

Blaster's cassette had cornered them in the afternoon, making pouty faces at them until Soundwave had agreed to find an alternate babysitter for Ratbat during their date night. Judging by the way the two cassettes were snuggled together in one giant bean bag, Rumble lying back against Eject's chest, it had been a good idea.

*Are you okay with them, Soundwave? I know they're young, still.*

*Mechling twins: mature,* Soundwave replied. *Almost to adult frames, for cassettes. Ravage: eldest, already in final frame. They will always be my sparklings, but I can't stand in their way. Not when they're finding happiness like this.* He pressed a quick, discreet kiss to Ratchet's helm. *Eject: good for Rumble.*

*He's a good mechling,* Ratchet agreed. *Blaster's raised his little guys right.* Then the implications of Soundwave's words hit him. *Wait, Ravage is dating too? Who?*

Soundwave grinned. *Ravage: keeping her affairs secret.*

*You still know, though,* Ratchet replied, smiling back at his beautiful Intended.

*Affirmative,* Soundwave said, pulling Ratchet close and putting both arms around him. *Ravage: dating Red Alert.*

Only long practice at keeping his face neutral kept Ratchet still at that. He turned his face into Soundwave's neck cables to conceal the incredulous look he knew he couldn't quite suppress. * _Red Alert?_ Really? How in pit did that happen?*

*Unknown,* Soundwave replied, pressing another, less concealed kiss to Ratchet's chevron. The medic shivered. *Ravage: happy, though. Relationship: mutually beneficial.*

*I should hope so,* Ratchet said, still in a slightly shocked state. *I know I've been trying to get that mech to relax for years. If he's let _her_ in…*

*… there is still hope,* Soundwave finished for him. *Peace: growing stronger with every day, like this. Maybe we can have what we want.*

*I'd give anything,* Ratchet said fervently, clinging slightly to the taller mech. *You know there's nothing I want more than to spend the foreseeable future right here next to you, so we can do this right. And it looks like we can have that.*

*Soundwave: never dared hope,* his Intended said softly. *Never expected this. Ratchet: perfect.*

*Thank you.* He snorted quietly. *Ravage and Red Alert. What's next, First Aid and Vortex?*

Soundwave chuckled quietly.

They managed to focus on the movie again after that. Ratchet was just beginning to heat up under Soundwave's gentle caresses, enjoying the mild charge the dark fingers pulled from his systems, when both their comms rang.

*Ratchet, Soundwave,* Prowl said in greeting. He somehow managed to sound both apologetic and brisk. *There is a mission that requires your participation.*

*A mission?* Ratchet asked, surprised. He was never sent on missions. Pit, he was usually the one piecing the sendees back together when they returned. *For both of us?*

They exchanged a look. He knew that Soundwave wasn't usually sent away either.

*For the both of you,* Prowl confirmed. *Megatron and Optimus both signed off on this. It is of high importance, and you will be leaving as soon as possible.*

*Destination: requested,* Soundwave said, and his arms tightened around Ratchet's chassis. *Where are we going?*

*Cybertron,* Prowl replied. *We're sending you to Cybertron.*

* * *

 _A/N:_ _The movie they're watching? Wreck-it Ralph. Rumble thinks the idea that they've basically made a movie about a human with pile drivers is_ hilarious.


	12. And the world we once believed in

A/N: Here it is. The final chapter of the final arc. I'm marking this story complete. I'm not saying I'll never go back and add to it, because it's been a lot of fun, but for now this plot bunny's spent.

I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

* * *

 **Arc 3: Springing fresh from the world**

* * *

Chapter 4: And the world we once believed in will shine again in grace

* * *

Ratchet onlined quickly, as usual. He was disinclined to move, though. The warmth against his back was altogether too comfortable. Ordinarily, if this was a normal day, he would want to just bask in that comfort for a good while longer.

There was nothing normal about this situation, however.

"Soundwave. It's time to wake."

Arms tightened around his torso, and Soundwave's bare mouth nuzzled against his neck cables. "No. Another breem."

Who knew that Soundwave was such a cuddler in the morning? Not that Ratchet minded. He was never going to confess to anyone just how adorable he found that. And though he would have loved to relish in this new-found side to his Intended, today there was no time for that.

"I'm afraid we have to get going," he sighed. "Much as I would prefer to stay here with you all day, Cybertron is waiting for us."

The reminder was enough to drag Soundwave the rest of the way out of recharge. The dark mech sat up with a grunt and handed Ratchet an energon cube from his subspace, while opening his dock to let his three cassettes out.

Ravage stretched as she landed, pushed her head lightly against Ratchet's hand. "Good morning."

"Hey, kitty," Ratchet replied. "Ready for this?"

"I'll do what I must," Ravage replied. "This peace is important."

Laserbeak chirped her agreement as she landed on Ratchet's shoulder. Buzzsaw, the one cassette who hadn't seemed to have warmed up to Ratchet yet, was resting on his creator's arm.

"Time: of the essence," Soundwave said, turning away from Ratchet to look over at the barren landscape behind him. "Cybertron: waking up."

"Then let's move," Ratchet agreed, standing up next to his Intended.

"Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, Ravage: fan out," Soundwave said. As the cassettes began moving away, he took Ratchet's hand. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Ratchet confirmed.

Together, they stepped out of their temporary shelter.

The view was staggering. The landscape was broken up, pitted, by acid rain and bombing runs both. In the distance, broken buildings were no longer reaching towards the sky, and everywhere there were piles of metal that Ratchet refused to look too closely at in case he recognized something that was usually on the inside of a mech.

But the bigger damage was less apparent. Cybertron was still. There was no hum in the air, no living creatures, no vibration of an active planet under their pedes. Nothing.

"It never ceases to amaze me," Ratchet said softly, "just how much wrong we've done to our home."

"Intention: revive it," Soundwave replied. "Shockwave: will help."

"You think he'll believe us?"

"Soundwave: hopes."

"Yeah. I guess that's all we can do until we find him." Ratchet increased his pace and took longer steps to compensate for his shorter legs as Soundwave pressed on next to him. Cybertron's metal surface wouldn't give his Earth tires any traction, so walking was the only option. "Slag it, they should have sent fliers. Thundercracker and Fireflight would have this done in half the time."

"Shockwave: would blast them out of the sky," Soundwave said absently. "Seekers: distrusted."

"Because of Starscream," Ratchet realized. "Pit, it's about time this war ended. Look what it's done to us."

In front of them, Kaon loomed ever closer. It would take them another day to get there.

To pass the time, they talked. They'd been doing a lot of that since Ratchet accepted Soundwave's courting proposal, and though the location was new the situation really wasn't.

"Soundwave: drawn to Ratchet's strength," the cassette carrier confessed. "Not just now. Before, as well."

Ratchet smiled at the words. "Well, I can't deny that you've impressed me too, Soundwave." He squeezed Soundwave's hand and chuckled. "Isn't it weird, though. Without this war, we never would have met."

"Soundwave: would –" Soundwave began, then shook himself. " _I_ would have regretted that."

"Hey," Ratchet said softly, pulling the other mech to a stop. "I appreciate the effort. I know it's a hard habit to break."

Soundwave hummed, bending his neck until his forehead was flush against Ratchet's. His visor slid aside, treating Ratchet to a view of those gorgeous optics. "I don't know that I deserve you," the carrier said softly. "But I will work very hard every day to ensure that I'm worthy of your attentions."

Ratchet couldn't resist. For the first time, he stretched up and pressed his lips against Soundwave's.

It was short, chaste and endlessly sweet, and when it ended Ratchet clung to Soundwave like his life depended on it. Which, in a very real way, it did here.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "if you didn't feel we were at that point yet."

"I'll take whatever you give me," Soundwave said softly, lifting his hands to cradle Ratchet's face. "But I don't want to rush you. You set the pace for our courtship. It is a big decision."

Ratchet hesitated, because it was. But he suddenly realized he'd made it already. "Yes. And I accept," he said softly, looking up into those golden optics. They narrowed slightly in confusion, before widening. Ratchet grinned and nodded at the hopeful expression on Soundwave's uncovered face. "Yes, Soundwave. I want to bond with you."

Soundwave stared into his optics for a moment longer, as if to divine the truth there. Then he groaned and pressed his lips to Ratchet's again, lifting the medic clean off the ground in the process.

This kiss lasted much longer, and Ratchet could barely stand at the end of it. There were some things that needed to be said, though.

"I love you," he confessed. "I would spend the rest of my days by your side. I'll care for what is yours as if it were mine. With this I offer all that I am to you."

"I love you," Soundwave echoed, with more feeling in his voice than Ratchet had ever heard. "I would shelter and protect you for the rest of my days. What is mine is yours. With this, I pledge all that I am to you." He smiled widely. "Primus, Ratchet, you don't know how happy you make me."

"Probably about as happy as you make me," Ratchet replied, hardly believing the mushy words that emerged from his vocalizer and doubting he'd never meant anything this much. He stood on tiptoe to kiss his Intended – his Betrothed, now – again.

"Well, isn't this sweet," a new voice said, and Ratchet whirled around, hunting for its origin. Soundwave's arms tightened around him possessively.

A tall, blue femme stepped out from behind a pile of something that might have been a dwelling at some point. She gestured with a heavy rifle at them. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut the romance short, though. You're coming with us."

"Of course, you can always resist," another voice said, and the mechs both turned to find a green femme with a similar weapon. She grinned wickedly. "I'm sure we can offer some incentive to behave."

At her pedes, beneath the rifle's muzzle, was Ravage.

* * *

They were led around obstacles and through passageways, across plains and roads, and finally down a steep incline that was absolutely terrifying to navigate blindfolded as they were, before they were finally allowed to stop. When their blindfolds came off, Ratchet immediately reached for his Betrothed's hand, only to find that Soundwave's wrists were behind his back and encased in energy cuffs.

He'd be damned if he let that stop him from reassuring the other mech, though. Soundwave stood tall and stoic, but Ratchet knew him well enough by now to see the tension in his frame. So he stepped closer and snaked his arm around Soundwave's, squeezing gently when the navy mech leaned against him. Only then did he look around.

They were in a large cavern, somewhere under Cybertron's surface. Chromia was right there by them, still guarding them, still smirking as she had on the surface. But Ratchet's attention was immediately stolen by Elita One.

The femme commander was sitting on a storage crate in the end of the room, looking at them with a thoughtful expression on her face. She hadn't changed much since Ratchet had last seen her – if anything, she looked leaner, harder. When she stood, she was still intimidating.

She turned her focus to Chromia, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to have her look away from him.

"Report." Her voice was still musical.

"We found them on the surface, as indicated," Chromia replied. "The two bird-bots are out there too somewhere, we couldn't get a bead on them to bring them down. Oh, and you're going to like this." She grinned. "When we found them, they were reciting betrothal vows at each other."

"Is that so." Elita One smiled slightly. "I guess that's what the closeness and cuddling is about, then. So which one of you is the traitor to your cause?"

"Neither of us are," Ratchet replied gruffly. "Elita, I have a message to you from Optimus. If I may?"

She didn't reply, simply held out her hand. Ratchet pulled the datapad from subspace and handed it to her.

Soundwave was still trembling minutely next to him. *Are you all right, my spark?*

*I am well enough. I worry for Buzzsaw and Laserbeak.*

*Can't you feel them?*

*Vaguely. The distance is great.*

*I'll ask for them. I just want her to read the message first. Maybe she'll be a bit more lenient and relaxed then.*

"So that's how it is," Elita One said finally, looking up. Then she smiled. "Congratulations on your betrothal. Firestar, remove Soundwave's bonds."

"Elita?" Chromia sounded skeptical, and Ratchet didn't blame her. "What's going on?"

"An intervention from Primus, it seems," the femme leader replied. "Moonracer, please fetch our… other guests."

A bright red femme unlatched the cuffs around Soundwave's wrists, and the cassette carrier immediately latched onto Ratchet's servo. "Query: Ravage?"

"Of course." Elita eyed the cassette. "Go to your carrier." She didn't watch as Ravage jumped up to fold herself into Soundwave's chest. "Ratchet, Soundwave, please join me. We have much to catch up on."

*Ravage: all right?*

Ratchet was gratified to be included in their conversation. It was a simple thing, but it was a big deal.

*That was utterly humiliating,* Ravage grumbled. *I have never let myself be captured that easily in my entire existence.*

Ratchet grinned against Soundwave's shoulder.

*I wouldn't worry too much about the others,* Ravage continued. *The femmes weren't trying very hard. Moonracer's gun wasn't even primed. She's an utter sparkling.*

*And you didn't give her a hard time at all?* Ratchet wondered.

The returning comm came with a definite sense of a smirk. *One should make things easier on sparklings. That's how they learn.*

This time, Ratchet couldn't suppress the chuckle.

Elita One led the way to a small set of seats over in a small alcove, cleverly hidden from the main cavern. Once inside, she handed each of them a small, shimmering energon cube. Then she smiled widely. "Let's toast for peace, shall we?"

Ratchet snorted. "You keeping us on our toes on purpose, Elita?"

"I take my joys where I can find them," she replied lightly, sitting down in one of the chairs. "Now. I can't doubt that that message is from Optimus, it had far too many clues in it. And since he can't deceive if his spark depended on it, it has to be genuine." She glanced at them, a hint of curiosity to the cant of her head. "I only wonder why he didn't deliver it himself."

Ratchet shrugged. "Honestly? Because he's got a new little paramour on his arm and couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind, and said paramour is less than welcome here."

Elita giggled. "Are you saying that Optimus Prime actually followed his spark for once? Well, I'm glad for him. It was about time he found love again. So who is it?"

There was a moment of hesitation. Elita One had a lot of history with Optimus, after all. Though by all the signs he could see, she was well and truly over it. And it wasn't like it was going to be secret for long. "Starscream."

To her credit, Elita didn't quite gape. Though it was a close thing. She covered it by hiding behind her cube. "Well, he never did choose an easy path." She turned her focus towards Soundwave next, a blatant change of topic if Ratchet had ever seen one. "I assume your next stop would be Shockwave's premises."

Soundwave inclined his head. "Affirmative. Objective: contact both factions. Priority: not stated."

Ratchet immediately missed Soundwave's less formal speech. Though he could understand why his Betrothed – his Betrothed! Now that the immediate danger had passed, he realized his spark still hadn't stopped spinning wildly – felt the need to hide behind the formality in present company.

"Well, I can spare you the trip at least. You see," Elita chuckled, "I really wasn't joking when I said Primus has a hand in this. Moonracer, come in, I know you're hovering out there."

Ratchet turned to see the green femme walk in, with a curiously sheepish expression on her face this time. Behind her came a bright yellow Seeker.

Ratchet stared. They were holding hands.

"Query: Ion Storm?" Soundwave's voice was faint, too, and even through the mask's monotone Ratchet could hear the confusion.

"Please, sit," Elita said. "This is a long story. Moonracer, if you would? This is your mess, after all."

"I thought you said it was the hand of Primus," the green femme quipped, but she relaxed minutely as Ratchet and Soundwave each took a seat. "Fine. You're such a slave driver. Anyway." She turned towards the Seeker, tugging him slightly further into the room. "Anyway, Ratchet – hi, by the way, sorry about the gun thing - this is Ion Storm. We kinda shot him down a good while back. And he got badly hurt." She bit her lower lip, and the Seeker reacted by stroking a finger down her cheek. She leaned into the touch and in-vented heavily. "We – I – nursed him back to health. And one thing kinda lead to another, so…"

"So suddenly I had a bonded pair on my hands," Elita said dryly. "Moonracer is very impetuous at times. Not only that, but he was a Decepticon. And trined to two of the biggest pains in my aft I have ever encountered – and I include both Optimus and Megatron in that, by the way. It was quite the standoff when Acid and Nova came to find him."

"I can imagine," Ratchet said faintly. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Here they'd all been wondering how the femmes would take the peace and all the cross-faction relationships that had sprung up in the wake of it, and they'd been dealing with their own illicit affairs all along?

"Ion Storm stood up to them," Moonracer continued. "And we ended up capturing them. Though I don't think they were fighting very hard." She turned towards her bondmate.

"They weren't," the Seeker confirmed. He had a pleasant, melodious tenor voice. "They were starving. To be honest, we weren't that far from breaking anyway. Shockwave barely fueled us enough for flight."

"Wait." Soundwave focused on Elita. "Rainmaker trine: here in its entirety? Captive?"

"Not captive," Elita said. "Call it house arrest, if you like. I certainly can't allow them to leave, even though – well. You'll see in a moment." She glanced down at the datapad in her hand. "Though I suppose it's all a moot point now."

"We're still Decepticons," Ion Storm interjected. "Still loyal to the Cause, to Megatron. We're just..." Red optics met blue, and Ratchet could see the love there. "We've got a few more ties to heed these days."

"Query: Acid Storm and Nova Storm also bonded?"

Elita laughed. "Primus, no. That would be a situation, wouldn't it? No, thankfully I only have the one pair of miscreants to deal with. But the Rainmakers are trined brothers, so where one goes the others follow. It's been a steep learning curve for us to adapt to a pair of mech fliers in our midst." She stood, gracefully, fluidly. "Come. Moonracer will lead us to our other guests."

The followed the green femme and her towering yellow Seeker – and Ratchet was fairly sure that Sunstreaker wouldn't be the only one to object against the color combination, though not against the sentiments apparent between the pair – back out into the main cavern. Where Soundwave stopped so suddenly that Ratchet crashed into him.

Under Firestar's and Chromia's guard, in the center of the cavern, stood Shockwave.

He didn't seem to be in poor repair, as far as Ratchet could see. The yellow optic focused on them passively, and his arm cannon had been disabled, but he wasn't cuffed or shackled in any manner. Still, it was clear he was a prisoner.

"Explain," Soundwave said tersely.

"The Rainmakers brought him," Elita said simply, as if that was sufficient information.

Soundwave didn't seem too pleased. But he unsubspaced his own datapad and crossed the floor to hand it to the other Decepticon.

"Soundwave," Shockwave acknowledged. "It is a surprise to see you. Is Lord Megatron well?"

"Lord Megatron: in good health," Soundwave intoned. "Message: from him. Please read it."

Instead, Shockwave popped open a panel on his wrist and connected directly to the datapad. Ratchet could only imagine the firewall strength needed to enable that kind of confidence.

"Ah, I see," Shockwave replied after a moment. "Yes, it certainly all seems to be in order. When will we be going to Earth?"

"Earth?" Chromia echoed. "'Lita, what is he talking about?"

"Call a general assembly," Elita replied. "Shockwave, with these news in mind, do we need to keep you under guard?"

"My lord has ordered me to stand down," Shockwave replied. "It is only logical that I comply with your wishes as long as you do not hinder my trip to Earth and Lord Megatron."

"Good." Elita nodded. "Come on, you two. This explanation will not be handled simply by me. You've got the full story and you will share it."

Ratchet grinned and squeezed Soundwave's hand. "Fine by me. Don't guarantee you'll believe us."

"That wild, huh?" Elita smiled. "Well, we haven't had any storytellers for a while. Any juicy details?"

"Oh, there's plenty," Ratchet chuckled. "There's plenty."

* * *

Fireflight was bouncing on his pedes. He knew he was doing it, and he couldn't make himself stop. Not even Thundercracker's hand on his back could steady him.

In just a few minutes, Shockwave and the others from Cybertron would be coming over the distant ridge. Fireflight wasn't looking forward to it.

"How far out are they?" he asked no one in particular.

"Not too far," Rumble replied. "Boss says they'll be in visible range in ten minutes or so."

Fireflight just nodded and kept bouncing.

"Relax, dearspark," Thundercracker crooned, leaning in close to his audial. "This is all a formality. The truce is solid even without Shockwave's signature."

"I don't trust him," Fireflight replied.

"Good," Thundercracker said. "That just means you're smart. You trust me, though, when I say it's safe?"

At that, Fireflight finally allowed himself to be pulled close to his lover's frame. "I do that." Eagerly, he accepted every bit of comfort and warmth Thundercracker pushed at him as blue arms encircled his waist and held him close.

He kept darting glances at the ridge, but it couldn't hold his attention for long. Not much could. Instead, he watched the others waiting alongside him, the other Aerials circling the open clearing, the way the sunlight reflected on the pond behind them.

He watched as Starscream leaned close to the Prime again, probably for the same reasons he himself was so close to Thundercracker right now. Optimus was rock solid, though, unlatching his face mask and pressing his lips against Starscream's dark forehead.

Optimus wasn't afraid.

Rumble wasn't afraid, either. The cassette was standing with his brothers, the two who had been left behind with him so the femmes would feel less threatened by Soundwave. Though Fireflight suspected that Ratbat had been left behind because he was so tiny still.

Next to Ratbat was Bluestreak, and he was nervous. He had his doorwings back finally, though, and that probably helped. And the fact that Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Smokescreen were all next to him. Fireflight couldn't really imagine anyone being scared of Shockwave and one sole Seeker trine with both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe guarding.

Next to Smokescreen was Skywarp, holding Silverbolt's hand. Skywarp and Sideswipe had turned out to be a match made in hell, and when Smokescreen joined in it didn't get any better. Fireflight had seen the way Prowl's doorwings twitched when he saw the three of them together. It wasn't good.

Silverbolt was very happy, though. As happy as Fireflight himself was, probably. That was good.

Bumblebee was grinning, too. Fireflight didn't really understand why – the minibot was standing next to Megatron, for pit's sake. Though Megatron had been less scary lately. He seemed less like the mech who would casually bomb an entire city and more like someone who was finally finding his way again. And Bumblebee was usually a good judge of character, even if he did tend to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

Jazz and Prowl were standing behind Optimus, on the opposite side from Starscream. They looked like… like normal, actually. That didn't really mean anything. Jazz could grin even if his leg had been torn off, and Prowl always looked stern like that.

Fireflight had just shifted his glance to Hound, Trailbreaker and Wheeljack when Rumble suddenly straightened. "They can see us."

Immediately, Fireflight turned his attention inward. *Raider? Can you see them?*

*I see them,* Air Raid confirmed. *Wow, it looks like they're all coming.*

*How many?* Silverbolt was all calm command, even as he stepped closer to Skywarp.

*Six femmes, I think, plus three Seekers and one Shockwave. And Ratchet and Soundwave, of course.*

"Six femmes?" Fireflight echoed out loud. "That's the whole contingent."

"The boss says there are reasons," Rumble said with a snort. "That's Soundwave-speak for 'shut up and I'll tell you later'."

Fireflight could see them with his own eyes now. Ratchet and Soundwave were walking up front with Elita One, and then Shockwave was right behind them. The Rainmaker trine followed with one of the femmes, and the rest of them followed behind.

"Why aren't they flying?" he wondered out loud. "Or, driving, I guess?"

Jazz must have heard him, because he turned and smiled at him. "They don't have Earth alt modes yet. We don' want to freak out the humans."

Fireflight supposed he had a point at that.

*Here they come,* Air Raid said.

"It's all right, loveling," Thundercracker murmured. "I'm with you."

Fireflight leaned into his lover's support again. "Why did we have to be here again?"

"A unified front," the Seeker replied. "Starscream stands with Prime, Bumblebee stands with Megatron, we stand with all of them. We need to show the others that this peace is genuine. And there is no better way."

That made sense too.

When he looked back at their visitors, he could make out Elita One's beaming smile. "Optimus," she called. "I can barely leave you alone for a moment before you turn everything on its head!"

"No credit to me this time, Elita," Optimus called back. "It's all Prowl's fault. And I mean that in a good way."

Elita grinned and sped up, leaving the others behind her. Optimus let go of Starscream for a moment to catch her as she threw herself at him. "It is good to see you, Optimus."

Fireflight couldn't do anything but stare as the pink femme kissed Optimus thoroughly. Thundercracker's sharp intake of breath probably echoed Starscream's, judging by the hurt and sharp fury on the tricolored Seeker's face.

"Elita, I'm glad you're here safely, but please," Optimus said, putting her down firmly. "Behave yourself. I assume you've read my message."

"I did," she confirmed. "It was a bit of a relief, to be honest. I'll sign whatever documentation you require." Then, to the eternal surprise of probably everyone there, she turned towards Starscream.

"Lord Consort. Thank you for welcoming us. And for taking such good care of this big lug here." She winked. "If you need any hints on how to handle him, just ask."

"Elita," Optimus groaned, hiding his face in his palm. "Now I remember why I left you on Cybertron."

Elita laughed. "Don't worry. I'll behave soon, I promise. I suppose this is a silly question, considering how well you all seem to have melded together already, but you don't mind my femmes splitting up and settling in at the _Ark_ where there's space for them, do you? I know more than one have someone waiting for them."

Optimus pulled Starscream close to himself again in an attempt of reconciliation that was obvious even to Fireflight. It was also clear that Prime wasn't forgiven that easily. And Elita had possibly made a foe for life. Not that they weren't in opposite factions already. "I would not," the Prime said, "except that we are going to Megatron's new base, the _Neo_. There is more space. And I believe room can be found for you."

Megatron just nodded.

By now, the others had caught up. Fireflight watched as Soundwave and Ratchet nodded to their respective leaders and stood aside. Rumble, Frenzy and Ratbat immediately went to Soundwave's side – or his shoulder, in Ratbat's case.

The Rainmaker trine walked up to Megatron, though, and immediately dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. "My lord," they murmured, barely loudly enough for Fireflight to hear.

Megatron nodded at them. "There's no need for that, my Decepticons. Stand. You've served well."

The Seekers stood, and moved aside to let Shockwave approach.

"My lord Megatron," Shockwave intoned.

"Shockwave," Megatron acknowledged. "You've served me well during wartime. Will you serve now, in peace?"

Fireflight felt like every mech on the clearing was frozen, not even venting, as they waited for the answer from the one mech with the power to stand their agreement on its head. Regardless of what Thundercracker said, he didn't think it would be easy to implement anything if Shockwave didn't agree.

"I will, my lord," Shockwave said. "The terms were favorable. Where do I sign?"

Fireflight relaxed, melting back against Thundercracker. The truce would stand.

* * *

The _Neo_ was, if possible, even more resplendent than last time they were there. Bumblebee grinned as he stood by Megatron's side, looking down at the mix of mechs and femmes beneath them.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "The war's over."

Megatron chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that vibrated through Bumblebee's struts. "And I can't claim credit. Really, this is more your doing than mine, little scout."

"That's not true," Bumblebee protested. "You co-wrote the treaty. You hammered out the details."

"Soundwave and Prowl hammered out the details," Megatron corrected. "Prime and I supplied the larger picture. And you, my dearest friend, were my support through it all." He lowered himself to the floor, hunching over until they were optic to optic. "I don't think I've really thanked you for that."

"You don't have to thank me," Bumblebee said softly. "Way I see it, this is our new chance. We can be grateful, but we all worked for this. So we all deserve it."

He looked down at Wildrider, edging over the floor until he was next to a for once visible Mirage. The Towers mech was politeness itself, it seemed, and Wildrider was soon smiling – even a bit shyly, Bumblebee thought. It appeared there were still miracles happening.

"You're probably right," Megatron replied, leaning in until he could rest one grey hand on Bumblebee's back. "You often are."

* * *

Skydive wandered through the crowd, one energon cube in each hand. He'd meant the other for Air Raid, but his brother had spotted someone he didn't know, and now Skydive couldn't find him. Standing still with two cubes looked stupid, so now he was walking aimlessly, trying to look like he was looking for someone. Which he was. He just wasn't expecting to find anybody.

So when the tall green Seeker almost walked straight into him, he wasn't sure who was the most surprised.

"Oh! Hello," the Seeker said. "You're one of the Aerialbots, right? Their tactician? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to almost crash into you."

"That's okay," Skydive stammered. "I am. One of them, I mean. The Aerialbots." He stopped, then in-vented deeply. "Hi. I'm Skydive. Aerial Tactician."

"Hey, Skydive," the Seeker replied, smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Acid Storm."

"Hi," Skydive said again. Then, feeling particularly brave, he smiled and held up Air Raid's cube. "Can I tempt you?"

"Oh, definitely," Acid Storm replied, taking the cube eagerly. "This is the best energon we've had since the war broke out."

"Really?" Skydive replied curiously. "I don't suppose you'd… I mean… Will you tell me about it?"

Acid Storm looked at him for a moment. Then he smiled. "Yeah, sure. Come on, I thought I saw a bench over there somewhere."

He led the way, and Skydive followed, no longer caring where Air Raid had gone off to.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Optimus said as he followed Starscream down the winding stairs to his – their - personal quarters. "I didn't know she was going to do that."

His Seeker was furious, and he had a right to be. Worse than the anger, though, was the spark-deep hurt and betrayal beneath the anger, the depression and self-hatred that threatened to swallow Starscream whole. Optimus sped up.

"Starscream," he said softly, finally managing to reach out and touch his Seeker's plating. "It meant nothing to me."

"How could it not?" Starscream replied in the same tone, still not turning to look at him. At least he slowed to a stop. "She is your entire past."

"Yes. She is. And I can't change that. But it is the past. And you, my love…" Optimus stepped closer, let both his hands travel down Starscream's arms. "You are my entire future. Can't you feel it?" He focused on the affection, the _love_ he felt for the magnificent mech before him. The admiration, the hope, the surrender.

He knew it had worked when Starscream turned around, facing him, though not looking at him yet. "I don't like it when you kiss other people."

"Elita had no right," Optimus agreed. "My lips belong to you. Everything I am is yours."

Garnet optics lifted to look at him. "Prove it?"

"Gladly," Optimus replied, meeting the Seeker's mouth-plates with his own.

* * *

Ravage padded silently through the empty corridors of the _Ark_. She had a goal in mind, and she knew he would be waiting for her.

The door was open.

"Red Alert?"

"I saw you on the monitors," his voice replied, and she adjusted the sensitivity of her optics until she could see him in the gloom. "How was your mission?"

"Successful," she replied, walking slowly closer. "I… missed you, though."

At that, he finally disconnected from the terminal. "As I missed you. Will your carrier need you tonight?"

"Soundwave is with Ratchet on the _Neo_ ," she replied, "along with the rest of my family. It is only you and I here."

Red Alert knelt in front of her and opened his arms. "If we truly have the night to ourselves… Will you come with me?"

"Of course." Ravage stepped into his reach without a moment's hesitation. "Where is your friend?"

"Inferno is with Firestar, and frankly, the less details I know about that the better," Red replied, cradling her close. "We're the only two left on the _Ark_."

"Utter privacy," Ravage replied, clamping down on her bonds with her family. "I know something we can do with that."

* * *

"Well, Prowler," Jazz drawled, "ya did good."

"I fail to see how this is my doing, Jazz," Prowl replied.

The _Neo_ was filled to bursting with happy mechs and femmes, all factions forgotten. It was a most welcome sight. Prowl felt lighter than he had since the war began, as if he had shed a full minibot's worth of battle plating.

"No, ya did this," Jazz insisted. "Ya started this whole thing. We wouldn' have been anywhere if it weren't for ya." He stepped closer to his mate's frame and purred. "And Ah feel like showin' ya how much this peace means ta me. Whattaya say, ya up for it?"

"If we can find somewhere more private than that heated pool," Prowl replied, "I'm all yours."

Jazz purred. "Oh, Ah'm sure we can think o' somethin'."

* * *

 **Epilogue: Save it for our children**

* * *

Optimus looked up anxiously as Ratchet appeared. "Ratchet? Is he all right?"

He didn't have time to dodge the wrench to the helm.

"Oh, your mate is fine," Ratchet grouched. "But you better be ready for the consequences of this. And the contagion effect! Primus!" He brandished the wrench at Optimus again, and the Prime ducked. "You'd better be happy we've got peace now, or this would be so much more difficult. Then again, I think we can blame the peace for the whole thing, because it wouldn't have happened otherwise."

"Ratchet, I don't understand," Optimus said imploringly. "What's wrong with Starscream?"

Ratchet stared at him. "Primus save me from bondmates," he muttered. Then, louder: "Starscream is sparked. Congratulations, Prime. You're a sire."

Optimus blinked. Then, for the first time in his existence, he crashed.

* * *

Megatron watched as his second in command carried the tiny being through the doorway of the rec room, anxious sire hovering behind them. Starscream had never looked so happy as long as Megatron had known him. He felt as if he was watching joy incarnate.

"Tell me, Bumblebee," he murmured to the little scout next to him. "How do you feel about sparklings?"

Bumblebee looked up at him. Then he grinned.


End file.
